


Like Real People Do

by consoul



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accountant Castiel (Supernatural), Also not in the way you think!, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, As in soulmates are a nebulous concept, But he's also lucifer so there's that, But not in the way you'd think, But the angst is mainly all the pining, Cause that's how I wanted to feel ok!, F/M, Feel-good, Gabriel is a businessman, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Law Student Sam Winchester, Lots of it, Lucifer Feels, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Mutual Pining, Romance, and fluff of course, magic realism?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consoul/pseuds/consoul
Summary: In a world where the workings of love are mysterious and inexplicable, Gabriel and Sam don't realize the potential that lies between them until it's too late. However, neither are willing to let their chance meeting be the end of it and with a little bit of help, take matters into their own hands.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, John Winchester/Mary Winchester
Comments: 43
Kudos: 96





	1. Ships in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> So…I had the thought to mash a soulmate AU with a coffee shop AU at 3 in the morning and this is just going to go from there. Neither tropes are something I ever thought I'd write about, but the amount of time on my hands is ridiculous and I thought it'd be a silly little fic. Now I'm actually kinda into the idea….enough to write a multi-chapter story exploring it apparently.  
> The title is from a song by Hozier. He also influenced my ideas behind this particular story, and I highly recommend his music!

**Chapter 1: Ships in the Night**

Gabriel understood that coffee was a popular beverage in the morning. The holy brewed bean was a personal favorite of his, and he didn't begrudge anyone for wanting to pick up some coffee before they got going. He didn't think he'd survive without a cup of it first thing before work, and no way would Gabe have graduated without caffeine to support him with artificial energy when he fell.

However, that didn't mean he had to be happy about finding himself neck-deep in an ungodly morning rush.

He wasn't sure where all the people had come from. The line had been reasonable when he'd entered, but it seemed that at some point while he'd placed his order a veritable flood of people had descended upon the shop. When Gabriel stepped over to the side to the pickup counter and glanced over his shoulder, it looked as if everyone and their grandmother had decided to enter and grab a table.

"Wonderful," Gabriel muttered, adding a few more colorful swears as he scanned the interior for at least one empty table, only to come up with nothing.

His phone buzzed in his jacket pocket, but he ignored it as he fought for elbow space with a few other people who were waiting on their orders. It was probably his boss, and he didn't want to get into it with the bastard right now when his mood was already beginning to tank. Gabe had quickly learned that majoring in business in college and stepping into the world of capitalism were completely different beasts.

At least in college, he could wear sweatpants to class and everyone appreciated him for being the wild, brash class clown. Now, he had to suit up for a majority of his week, and hold his tongue so he didn't ruin something. Everything was knives edges and glass at his job, cutthroat to a degree that not even his insane family could've prepared him for.

"Donut and coffee for Gabriel?"

"God yes," he said, slipping past a particularly aggrieved looking lady to retrieve his divine morsels as quickly as possible.

That was one problem solved. Now, what to do about seating?

Gabriel looked around again, chewing on his lip in a manner unbefitting for a businessman. He wanted to sit like he usually did, even if it was only for 10 minutes to scarf down his breakfast, but there was honest to God nowhere to sit-

There. A sole empty seat at a tiny table for two. It was occupied by one of the largest guys he'd ever seen, but he was a college student, and something about the way he sat told Gabriel that the guy wouldn't mind temporarily sharing a table with him.

Later, Gabriel would try to rationalize his approach by using the way he'd sat. With his long legs drawn in and elbows tucked so he didn't catch anyone with his long limbs, his body language was far from aggressive. A gentle giant out and about, just trying to drink some coffee and skim a textbook before his day got too crazy.

But as Gabriel approached with the same apologetic smile he used at work, he was convinced that something about his face was what drew him in. Something kind that rested beneath the sharp, masculine lines that made up his jaw and cheekbones. Gabriel had been reading people all his life, and just _knew_ he was right.

"Uh, hi. Sorry to interrupt, but do you mind if I just sit here really quick to eat?" he asked, holding up his food.

The stranger looked up, and Gabriel had to bite his tongue to remind himself that he was only here to split a table out of necessity, and not to get the guy's number. But dear _Lord_ , was he hot, even with the dark circles from late-night studying. The strong lines that made up his face contrasted with his soft eyes and softer waves of hair, painting a picture Gabriel found hard to ignore.

"Oh, yeah, no problem. Sorry, let me just-I didn't realize it'd gotten so crowded!" he said after a beat of silence where he'd had to process that someone was talking to him.

Gabriel hated how cute he found the way he hastily shuffled things around to make room because he wasn't here to _flirt_ goddammit. He was a businessman simply whittling away precious morning minutes in the manner he wanted and sharing a table out of necessity.

 _Necessity. I could certainly justify_ needing _his number._

"It usually isn't like this," Gabriel said with a grateful smile as he set down his breakfast and sat, scooting his chair in just as someone walked past, "I don't know where everyone came from."

"I'm afraid I probably added to the unusual amount of activity. It's my first time in here," the stranger said with a bashful smile complete with dimples.

Gabriel was a sucker for dimples. Long hair too, which this guy had in spades. And the rosy cheeks from the chillier than usual morning were just downright adorable. Did he know how attractive he looked, just sitting here by the window and drawing in what scant light made it through the tall buildings around them?

His phone buzzed again, a reminder that unlike the guy sitting across from him, he couldn't linger for long. No time to soak in the pale sun and simply _exist_.

 _What a shame,_ he thought as his phone continued to buzz away, _If I had half an hour, we could really have a chat. He seems interesting._

Gabriel fished out his phone so it wouldn't continue to tickle his ribs and scowled as it vibrated hard enough to skid just a tab across the surface of the table.

"Not going to answer it?"

"Hell no. It's my boss," he replied, taking a vindictive bit of his donut (regular glazed since that's all they had left) and chewing before continuing, "He's an asshole."

"That's rough man," the stranger said sympathetically, "You work nearby?"

"Too close," Gabriel sighed, propping his chin in his hand, "What about you? What poison have you chosen to take at school?"

The stranger smiled wryly and tilted the textbook up so Gabriel could read the cover. As he did, he took notice of the bandage around his left hand, with enough gauze that whatever cut he'd taken to the palm had to have been serious.

_I wonder how that happened.  
_

It wasn't his place to ask though, and besides, the front of the textbook provided a just as interesting conversation topic.

"Law? I'm sitting across from some serious smarts, aren't I?" he asked, finding his interest peaked even more as the stranger's cheeks grew even redder. So, Mr. Rosy Cheeks had a good brain underneath that mane of hair.

"I'm doing alright. You a businessman?"

"Yup," Gabriel said, popping the p before taking a sip of his coffee. It was obnoxiously sweet as always, and he loved it. He'd never let himself drink it black like most of the office did. "I'm glad I don't have to dissuade you from the glories of business and capitalism because if you were a business student, I would."

"That bad?"

Gabriel pondered the simple question for a moment, genuinely unsure of how he should proceed.

He had to admit, some parts of his job were fun. The high paced environment meant that his crack levels of energy were put to good use, even if the stress wasn't so fun. He had a steady paycheck that was bigger than he knew what to do with, and his bonuses were nice. Yes, his boss and his coworkers sucked, but Gabriel didn't have to be any closer to them than what was necessary for the job. He wasn't a workaholic like he was in the beginning, but he wasn't lazy either. Gabriel was just…somewhere in between, drifting in the business world.

"It has its good moments," Gabriel conceded before pulling a face, "I just… don't necessarily _like_ where I work right now."

"I get that," the stranger said, nodding understandingly, "Sometimes people can ruin the work we love. You just have to make sure you don't let them before it's too late."

_Before it's too late._

"That's some sage advice right there coming from someone that looks so youthful," Gabriel teased, covering up how close to home his words had hit. "Are you secretly a vampire that's worked a thousand trades over your immortal lifespan? Did they have H.R back in the Middle Ages?"

The stranger blinked, and for a moment Gabriel thought maybe he'd gone too far with his humor (he could be like Lucifer sometimes in that he never knew when to quit) before he burst out laughing.

His exuberant expression caught him off guard, and more than a few people in the vicinity looked over at them, but Gabriel didn't care. The feeling of making someone happy buoyed him above the heavy work problems and fueled the satisfied grin on his face.

_This is how he should look all the time._

"H.R? In the Middle Ages? Not a chance in hell," the stranger said with a cheeky smile that did things to Gabriel's stomach. "I'm flattered, but I regret to inform you that my work experience is solely that of customer service."

Gabriel shuddered dramatically, widening the smile on the stranger's face before he scratched his jaw, suddenly appearing awkward.

"What's wrong?" Gabriel asked, picking up on the subtle shift quickly. He'd always been attuned to pick up on that sort of thing in people; it was how he managed to be so good at his job. "Should I move? Cause I can leave if you want."

If Gabriel was being honest, he didn't want to move, but he would in a heartbeat for the other. He may joke too much, but unlike Lucifer, he respected boundaries that his idiot brother had the bad habit of leaping over flamboyantly without a care in the world.

"No, it's not that," the stranger rushed to say, "It's just…I just realized we don't know each other's names, and this is the best conversation I've had in about two weeks, and-oh just forget it."

He mumbled the last bit, face red and bent over his textbook to hide his embarrassment as his large hands fumbled for something to do. It was endearing, and Gabriel could hardly hold back some soft words at the sight. His initial impression of a gentle giant was spot on.

"No, it's alright," Gabriel said, tilting his head down to catch the stranger's gaze before smiling reassuringly, "I'm Gabriel. Thanks for sharing your table with me."

The stranger perked up before offering a brilliant smile. Gabriel drank it up and stored it into the back of his mind, suddenly convinced that even if he never saw this person again, he'd remember that smile for as long as he lived.

It was a jarring feeling to have on what was supposed to be just another workday in a long slog of work weeks, but Gabriel accepted the lightning bolt of feeling and rode it forward as the stranger introduced himself.

"I'm Sam. Local law student, and the temporary holder of the table we're currently splitting."

_Sam._

The name somehow fit the smile, and Gabriel found himself smiling in return. When was the last time he'd really _smiled_ like this?

"This _is_ some prime real estate you're holding onto here," he said, rapping the surface with his knuckles. The table was up against the window front, and Gabriel had a nice view of the people streaming up and down the sidewalk. "How on earth did you snag this?"

"Good timing. And I think there was some partial intimidation too. A lot of people seem to be scared of me," Sam admitted.

"I can believe that," Gabriel said, eyes lingering on the broad sweep of Sam's shoulders. His sweatshirt-emblazoned with his school logo-did little to soften what was no doubt an impressive physique, "But I'm not scared of you."

"Really?"

Sam had no right to fit so much forlornness in a single word, but he somehow did. Gabriel's heartstrings pulled uncomfortably in his chest, a reminder that work hadn't quite shriveled it into a cold, withered thing that took up space in his ribcage.

"Psh, of course not kiddo," he said, the endearment slipping out before he could stop himself. It made him feel old because he was only _just_ brushing up against three decades of life on God's green earth, but there it was. "Not with a smile like that."

Those latter words Gabriel didn't regret as much as he did the "kiddo". They were true, and he'd always been a confident person. Besides, if he could brighten someone's day, then why not? It wasn't as if he was going to get any better, judging by the way his phone was threatening to vibrate right off the table from the back to back notifications he was receiving.

"I don't think you can ignore that any longer," Sam remarked after flushing a cute shade of red Gabriel hardly had time to appreciate before his phone buzzed _again_.

He picked his phone up, scowling as he saw that not only had his boss tried to reach him, but also half of his coworkers. Apparently, some big client was getting antsy and threatening to take their business elsewhere, and as the resident snake charmer, Gabriel was tasked with pulling everything back together.

_As usual._

"Christ. They can't even talk to a client without me," he muttered, scarfing down the rest of his donut before scrambling to his feet, "It's like I'm Atlas holding up the world, except the world is Leviathan Inc."

He took another fortifying sip of coffee, unconsciously straightening the intrinsic tie knot he could now do in his sleep with the few fingers he could spare from the grip he had on his phone. The work persona Gabriel had carefully cultivated over the years, inspired by his older brothers, slipped on like a silicone mask, adhering perfectly to him.

Gone was the Gabriel enchanted by a near stranger's smile and kind eyes. Now he was just another walking suit, face locked up tighter than Fort Knox behind the easy mask he'd grown accustomed to wearing.

"Thanks for the table Sam, but I got to run," he said, voice collected and charming as could be.

Gabriel couldn't linger; he didn't even have time to get a number that deep down he could admit he'd like to have. Several excuses were flitting through his head (Sam looks a bit too young, a bit too idealistic, a bit too perfect) and his business persona latched onto them with relief. Assessing the situation analytical came back with a result that screamed bad idea, even if something he suspected was his soul screamed something else.

_How can a near-stranger do that to me?  
_

"Of course. Good luck," Sam said, flashing a smile that showed that he'd somehow understood the shift in character Gabriel had just undergone.

Gabriel was just as good at reading smiles as he was at body language, but he wasn't sure how Sam could've possibly seen what no one else had been able to see ever since he'd started working. Only his brothers could peer past his mask, and that was because his family was in the business of familiarizing themselves with masks.

_You're not the only one that can read people._

"Take care, kiddo. Don't let people get you down."

They were hollow words, and even worse, semi hypocritical ones when Gabriel let it happen to him at work, but it earned him one last smile. Another understanding one tinged with regret (regret that he was leaving?) but a genuine one regardless, framed by those dimples.

He held onto it as he left without a second glance. He ran through the excuses he'd made (Sam was a bit too young, a bit too empathetic, a bit too…) as he made his way to work, but there was a twinge of regret building on his chest. A feeling that maybe, just maybe, he should've taken the chance and spared another minute.

_If we both wanted it, then shouldn't I have gone for it?_

The sensation hit him in the elevator, surrounded by other lackeys anchored to the building and money. For someone who prided himself on taking the risks no one else cared to, Gabriel felt like an idiot.

All the signs had been there. What did it matter what the businessman thought when his heart had been interested? Gabriel had always turned his nose up at the coldness of his family's ways, only following in the path they'd laid out because even he could admit he had the right head for it. But that didn't mean his heart followed suit. Where was the passionate guy he had been in college, following his whims and giving anyone that disproved the middle finger? He'd been that person for twenty something years, right up until college had dumped him on the doorstep of the real world that then proceeded to suck him dry.

Gabriel's hands trembled imperceptibly in his pants pockets, the only sign of his emotional turmoil. Christ, but what a revelation to have on a workday, in a crowded elevator.

_I let it happen. The absolute last thing I wanted to happen, the very thing I always bragged to my family I would never let happen._

He'd let the dynamic flip. The world wasn't his, the job wasn't his; it was the other way around. Gabriel had let himself become _owned_ , chained to a desk and making deals with people barely better than the devil.

Gabriel wanted to rip his expensive suit off. Wanted to get the hell of off the elevator and run back to the coffee shop (a place that he didn't even know the name of despite all the times he'd been there) and ask Sam, Sam with the dark sweeps of hair and pretty smile, for a number, or at least ten more minutes of conversation. Gabriel wanted to buy him a coffee, get to know him better, or just thank him for opening his eyes to the trap he'd fallen into.

But he couldn't. He was in deep, and Gabriel couldn't extricate himself from this particular spiderweb so easily. He couldn't smile and rub his neck sheepishly like he did when he was a kid or ask his older brothers to help. He couldn't even go back to Sam, however much he longed to (and when was the last time he'd actually _longed_ for anything besides more sleep or a day off of work?). This was up to Gabriel; a lone man against the wickedly tight knots he'd tied in his life, tighter than his ever-impeccable ties.

When he exited the elevator, there was no trace that he'd ever met anyone interesting at all on his morning run for coffee, or that he'd had a mini-existential crisis. Gabriel was a master of disguise, and of always having the mask ready. He'd had the best to teach him after all.

All he had of Sam were smiles, and Gabriel would just have to make do with what he had of a brief, chance meeting. They were ships in the night now, but he'd hold onto the memory as a reminder to always stay alert to the world from now on. It wouldn't have another chance to creep up on him anymore.

"Gabriel, about time you showed up! He's on Line 3…"

"I've got it, Naomi," he said, charming as could be despite the fact that he wanted to snap at her that he was here 15 minutes before he technically had to be, and if she was as good as her job title said she was, then he wouldn't have even been necessary in the first place.

The last thought Gabriel spared for Sam, Sam with the bandaged hand and no last name (and wasn't that even stupider of him that he didn't even have a last name for a potential Internet search) that day was that, if he ever saw him again, he would take that risk, trifle excuses be damned.

But he didn't think there would be a second meeting. Gabriel, however lucky he could be, had always struck out when it came to having people stick around. The price of reading them so well, he assumed, meant that the universe always took them back once he'd read all there was to read on their faces.


	2. A Year and a Day

**Chapter 2: A Year and a Day**

"Assbutt!"

The odd profanity from Cas was entirely unexpected and startled Sam into looking up to check on the man just in time to see him firmly shut his laptop lid and push back from the kitchen table.

"Irritating coworkers," Cas explained, running a hand through his already beyond messy hair, "I'm sorry for interrupting your thought process."

"That's ok," Sam said, waving off his concerns as he set down the pen he hadn't used for the last ten minutes, "If I'm being honest, I haven't been very focused anyway."

Cas scrutinized him with his sharp blue eyes, hands resting on his thighs and head cocked. It was his pensive look, one that Sam had quickly grown familiar with ever since Dean had introduced him to his boyfriend with an uncharacteristically red face and the nickname for him Sam had used more than his given name.

"Dean returning with the pizza will be a blessing for both of us. Here, let's clear this off since neither of us won't be working anymore."

Sam acquiesced with a bob of his head, and they both stood to work in the quiet harmony that characterized their relationship.

An interesting characteristic of Cas was his bluntness. It was refreshing, and no doubt made him even more formidable as an accountant. Sam had been shocked when he first learned that his brother had fallen for an _accountant_ of all people, but only for a bit. Beyond their glaring differences, the two fit in a way Sam had rarely encountered.

He liked Cas. Both for the way he made his brother indescribably happy and because despite their still tentative relationship, Cas had no qualms about having odd conversations. Boundaries meant little to Cas when it came to subject matter; while he was unwaveringly polite, Cas would listen and talk about anything.

It was why, on only their second time being left alone by a very nervous Dean who had to run into work for something, Sam had spilled the beans about the melancholy businessman he'd met back in October. He still hadn't gotten around to telling _Dean_ that, and yet somehow, he'd told Cas, who'd listened with intense attention and proclaimed at the end that no, he wasn't an idiot for being hung up on it even after all this time.

" _You strike me as a romantic type Sam. You're sensitive to others, and never forget someone who you loved, or think you could've loved. I imagine it's a lethal combination on the heart."_

Sam couldn't begin to describe how lethal it was. Even now, in the tail end of April, he could still remember Gabriel as if he'd gone to that coffee shop yesterday and encountered him. Time had softened the edges of the experience a bit, but Sam still _remembered_. Gabriel was the one that got away, the one whose name always came up as a little echo in his head when he saw someone wearing a dark suit from behind or smelled a sweet order of coffee.

He'd dated other people in his life. Pieces of his heart had gone out, but Sam was remarkably good at regaining them despite his romantic tendencies. Not even Jess, his first true love, had a piece of his heart anymore. Sam may have made a piss poor Winchester in his father's eyes when it came to what counted, like cars and construction, but he'd retained good lessons from him. Wariness was ingrained in him, and while Sam was an optimist in love, he remained a realist when it came to the state of his heart.

But Gabriel, despite all the odds, had somehow got a sliver of it. Out there, somewhere in the chaos of California, was a businessman walking around with a piece of Sam's heart, and Sam couldn't forget as long as Gabriel had it.

"Have I ever told you about how I think soulmates work?"

Sam looked up sharply from the school materials he held in his hands. Cas had seemingly plucked the train of thought from his mind in that unnervingly accurate way he'd demonstrated early on when he anticipated Dean's needs almost as fast as Sam could.

Soulmates were tricky business; a phenomenon that refused to be pinned down with explanation. Countless myths and ideas offered all sorts of theories, but all fell remarkably short of capturing the true concept. Not even science could explain soulmates the way it eventually could lightning and earthquakes. So, the mechanics behind soulmates were left up for debate, leaving only the knowledge that enough people had come across their loved one in enough strange ways to give the concept credence.

It was one of life's greatest mysteries, but Sam didn't think Cas had brought up the subject on a whim. He was a practical man, prone to deep thought, but not useless conversation.

"How _do_ you think they work?" he echoed, curious for his brother's sake.

"The soul. Human spirit, essence, whatever you want to call it," Cas said, waving his hand in a vague gesture, "I think that they somehow get crossed together, long before they're born. Maybe in the stars, or deep in the ocean, or maybe even in the Earth's center. They cross, entangle in each other, and when they pull away, they each leave a bit of themselves behind in the other so that the yearning will pull them back together again."

Sam quite liked Cas' idea of soulmates. He'd heard similar sentiments, but something about the way Cas phrased it worked. It was remarkably poetic for someone that admitted they spent more time reading numbers than the used books he liked to collect.

"But that's only the way I think my soul and Dean's works," Cas mused, hopping up onto the kitchen counter and swinging his feet.

"You and-oh. _Oh_ ," Sam said, for lack of anything better to say as he stood with his hands still full of work.

The thought struck him quite belatedly that of _course_ Dean and Cas were soulmates. Soulmates weren't guarantees or worked in the same way for everyone, but some signs remained consistent enough across the board that people accepted them as trustworthy indicators of a fated match. He could hear his mother's voice now, counting the signs off on her hand as they sat on the porch swing and basked in the dry Kansas summer.

_A strange, chance meeting._

Dean had driven out here to help him make rent when he'd suddenly been the last roommate standing back in November. Two of his roommates had been charged with assault, and Kevin had been the third roomie that had been one of many to file charges before going back to Seattle with trauma. Hell, Sam had even filed his own set of charges. November had brought him a new scar on his palm, a hell of a story, and an apartment that he couldn't pay for on his own.

He hadn't called Dean at first. Sam had called around to just about everyone he knew, but it had been an awkward time for sudden changes in housing. He'd even called Jess since they'd parted on good enough terms, and while she'd sympathized, she had then dumped the information that she was living with a new boyfriend.

It didn't make things any better, but it did drive Sam to call Dean. And, as always, he pulled through, even if it was in the most dramatic way possible. He appeared early one morning with the loaded down Impala, bemoaning his shaggy hair and decrying the expensive nature of the West Coast, swearing up and down this was only until _we get you back on your feet Sammy._

That afternoon, while getting himself acquainted with the neighborhood, Dean nearly witnessed a hit and run. _Nearly_ being the keyword, as his self-sacrificing streak kicked in and he'd made it just in time to push a man in a tan trenchcoat out of the way. The way Dean told it, it hadn't been a big deal, but Cas always retold the story with a tone of awe. Dean had been clipped by the errant car, and Cas had insisted on taking him to the ER and somehow recompensing him for saving his life. Sam had arrived at the hospital to find his brother laughing in a bed despite his hatred of hospitals, with Cas by his side and a half-eaten pizza between them.

_Bending for each other._

Dean and Cas mellowed each other out. His brother could be an asshole and was made up of too many sharp edges to count, but Cas had eked out a soft spot right alongside the ones Dean carried around for who he counted as family. He quelled Dean's anger and soothed him when he got self-deprecating. In return, Dean got Cas to lighten up, laugh a little, and relax. They both made exceptions for the other, and they had rubbed off on each other enough that even Sam had picked up on a difference in his brother between blurred hazes of school and work sessions. Dean cleaned up after himself a little more, drank less hard alcohol on weekdays, and was less mouthy in general.

_The instinctive knowledge that things are right._

Sam hadn't liked the vagueness of the last sign as a child. He'd asked his mother to be more specific, and she'd only shrugged helplessly, blond hair tossed in the wind like the wheat he could see off in the distance. Mary Winchester described finding John as a soulmate like falling out of a half-world and into the real one, unaware that she'd been walking with muted senses her whole life.

Something Dean had said to him, drunk out of his mind after an argument with Cas a few weeks ago came back to him. He'd chalked it up to Dean being incredibly wasted, and the fact that he'd said it right before he'd tumbled into the bathtub and puked on himself instead of in the toilet hadn't made it seem any more noteworthy, but it came back to Sam now.

_"I'm never gonna find someone like Cas…ever. Never again Sammy. It just…feels_ right _. Like when I send Baby gunning down the highway. Going 90, and it's nothing but the strip of road and wind and open sky. It's like that feeling, but so much better."_

He'd been taught the three main signs. There were other, smaller ones, but Mary Winchester had placed emphasis on the soulmate trinity and told him to not get too caught up by the smaller notions out there.

Sam made a note to call her, cause knowing Dean he still had his head up his ass and had no clue what was going on. Dean had been derisive of soulmates even before he'd driven out here, claiming that the only soulmate he needed was Baby if he was going to bother with one.

"Sam?"

Cas sounded nervous, and his voice jarred Sam out of his deep train of thought and back into the real world with a surge of elation as he truly processed what he'd been told.

"Holy _shit_. When did you know? Does Dean know? This is great!" Sam exclaimed, sweeping Cas up into a bone-crushing hug.

"Uh, Dean doesn't know, and I knew in the ER," Cas wheezed, patting his shoulders awkwardly. He wore the biggest smile Sam had ever seen on him when he set him down thought, eyes sparkling in the way they only did when he spoke of Dean.

"Even then?" he asked, amazed. How had Cas _known_?

"Even then," Cas confirmed, suddenly bashful as he toed the kitchen floor, "I…well, I'd never had much luck in love. I tried to keep myself above that sort of thing actually; above a lot of things. But it was the strangest thing, looking into Dean's eyes on that street. I hadn't been hit by that car, but I felt like I _had_ , if that makes any sense."

Cas looked up at him, and the look in his eyes cemented Sam's belief of soulmates better than the myths and folktales and religious mumbo jumbo ever could. It was one thing to know his parents were soulmates, and quite another to witness soulmates collide.

"I didn't even try to stop it. I don't think I could. I'm a patient person, and I'm willing to wait for Dean to come around. He's close to getting it, I think. But I just wanted to tell you because I think that because you and Dean are such close brothers, that perhaps you'd meet your respective soulmates in around the same timeframe."

Sam frowned, not comprehending. What did _he_ have to do with all this soulmate business? He wanted to celebrate with Cas and tell Dean to hurry up and get with the program! If it weren't for the taboo nature of interfering with the progression of a soulmate relationship, he'd have already phoned his idiot brother.

"Think about it Sam," Cas said gently, leaning against the counter, "A chance meeting that you remember even now. And you yearn so _much_ for someone you only spoke to for only a short time. All these months later, and you still remember him."

Sam's mind came to a screeching halt as he finally understood what Cas was trying to say.

_Gabriel._

He must've gone pale quickly, because Cas' brow creased in concern, and before he knew it, he had fallen back to sit heavily on the kitchen chair.

"But…but how could I have not _known_? Why…do you really think so?" Sam asked, stomach-churning queasily. Surely a stranger he'd only met once couldn't be his _soulmate_.

Then he recalled the strange dipping sensation he'd felt as Gabriel walked away, like something important poised to happen fell dormant, cut off by the figure leaving the coffee shop.

_Could it really be him?_

"There are instances of people bumping into their soulmates and not realizing it, only to realize after the fact and meet again at a later period," Cas said, slipping into his clinical, accountant tone before tilting his head and switching to something softer. "They encounter each other before their intended, fated meeting, defying the universe's intentions. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"I think so?" Sam asked, scratching the back of his neck. He was still hung up on Gabriel, and the fact that the visceral reaction he'd had when he walked away hadn't just been him being stupidly sensitive at a low point in his life.

_Meeting each other ahead of time._

"The knight and the bard," Sam blurted out, earning an odd look from Cas.

"Pardon?"

Sam blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly hadn't expected the words to even slip out of his mouth. He didn't even think he'd been _thinking_ them before he spoke, but he knew he was right for saying them.

"It's a story my mother told me. I'm not sure if she made it up or got it from somewhere, but it sounds like the knight and the bard."

Even now, he could recall his mother stroking his hair, rocking them back and forth with her bare feet pushing off of the porch. In the swing, with his legs tucked up, Sam used to imagine he was on the sea, far away from dusty Kansas and its never-ending fields.

"How does it go?"

They migrated naturally to the living room. Stories had a way of influencing people subconsciously, and Mary Winchester's story of the knight and the bard was no different. This was a story for the cozy living room, not the kitchen.

Sam got himself settled on the worn couch before he started, thinking back carefully to how his mother had phrased it when he was young.

"Once upon a time," he started dutifully with a crooked smile at Cas, who settled in at the opposite end, "There was a noble knight who kept the land safe from monsters. His work was hard, and he could barely rest because the land and its people needed him to keep them safe. While they appreciated his efforts and tried to be polite, everyone kept their distance, because slaying monsters always left its mark on the knights of the land.

"This particular knight grew weary of the distance. All he wanted was someone to love, but in his line of work, it was an impossibility. However, he was a man of honor and was dedicated to his work, so he never thought of leaving it behind. He did this for years, traveling the roads on his own and protecting the people that needed him.

"One night, he stopped at a tavern. He was tired, but there was a party going on, and the knight couldn't resist a chance at mingling, if only for a night. He shed his armor and did his best to pretend to be one of the commoners. Since the tavern was in the furthest corner of the land, no one recognized him, and the knight was free to dance and celebrate with the rest of them. His heart eased in the company of others, but it wasn't until he met the bard that he truly enjoyed himself.

"The bard was singing a song about him, and he was amused to hear the man talk about how brave and powerful the knight was. They spoke, and all the bard could speak about was the knight, but he didn't mind. The bard had no clue he was talking to the epic hero he sang about so much. Anonymity kept him safe that night, and the bard sang a song for the knight, seeing how happy he was to be in the tavern and appreciating how he listened to him when he didn't sing.

"However, everything has an end, and the next morning the knight was back on the road. A year and a day passed with the knight thinking of the bard, and the bard thinking of the knight. Despite not knowing his true identity, the bard felt connected in a way that made him sing louder and clearer, and he never ceased to think about the man from the tavern as he traveled his own set of roads.

"Lady Fate, knowing how much the knight toiled to keep the land safe, smiled down upon him. At the end of the year and day, the knight found himself back in a tavern. This time, there was no roaring party, and the people kept their distance, except for one. The bard was there, and not only recognized him from the first time they met but had no fear of his occupation. To him, the knight was just a man, and all he wanted to do was travel with him and write songs about his adventures.

"The knight couldn't believe the bard at first, having been alone and loveless for so long, but once he understood how true the bard's intentions were, he accepted. And from then on, the knight and bard were together always, traveling the roads forevermore."

Sam slouched back into the couch, mildly amazed that he had remembered the whole story. He didn't think he'd been told it since he was four or five, but the words had somehow remained in his brain, weaving a story of lost and rediscovered love.

The story put things in perspective, not with a blot of clarifying lightning, but rather a soft click in his mind as things shifted in just the right way.

He'd met Gabriel, his soulmate or the closest thing the world had to one, without even realizing it. And he'd gotten away.

"You'll find him again."

Sam looked up, and some of his sudden and terrible heartache must've shown on his face because the quiet confidence of Cas' face made room for some compassion.

"You _will_. Isn't it better to know he's out there and that you know what he looks like, rather than going your whole life wondering if you would ever meet him?"

Cas had a point. Sam could grudgingly admit it, even if panic at the thought that he might not ever find him began to tighten his lungs.

"Winchesters are lucky," he said, recalling his father's words and clutching onto them like one held onto a rosary, "Did Dean ever tell you why that was?"

Cas shook his head, and Sam smiled, a sudden rush of calm replacing the seizing panic so quickly that it was almost as if it hadn't been there at all. He could see his father now, nursing a beer on the couch after a long day of work and running his hand through his mother's blond hair as she spoke of her day, quietly affectionate.

"Winchesters have always found their soulmates. Always."

"Always?" Cas asked, eyes wide and shining in the waning afternoon light that streamed through the windows.

Sam nodded. They were a largely average family, with more than their share of hardships, but for whatever reason, they retained one of the most powerful blessings. Soulmates occurred with no discernable rhyme or reason, but for them, the pattern was indisputable.

"Every single one of us. Dean was the only doubter. You know he's scared of commitment and thinks he doesn't deserve one, but I always knew he'd find someone. I'm glad that someone was you," he said, his smile just as bright as Cas' eyes.

"I suppose so," Cas said bashfully as he looked away, his suddenly pink cheeks clashing with his deep voice.

There was a short rapping knock at the door, and Sam muttered, "Speak of the devil," as Cas stood to open the door for Dean. His face opened up like a flower, eager to greet his brother.

_I want something like that,_ Sam thought, words almost desperate in his head as Cas pulled open the door and relieved Dean of some of the food, but not before leaning in for a kiss. It was as if all the talk of soulmates had opened his eyes to what the world could be like. Like his mother, who'd lived with muted senses, Sam had missed the connection all these months before it had all suddenly made sense.

_A year and a day passed with the knight thinking of the bard, and the bard thinking of the knight._

Sam wasn't sure how long it'd be until he met Gabe again. Maybe it would be tomorrow, or a year and a day, or a decade. But he agreed with Cas; some deep-seated instinct told him that he'd find Gabriel again. Winchesters were lucky that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we get Sam's POV. The POVs will switch off between Sam and Gabe for the whole story, just to let you guys know. Also, this is probably the fastest update in my entire time writing fanfic, but short chapters are a blessing like that. It's actually kind of fun limiting myself like this!


	3. Contribute to the Chaos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is discussion of a past suicide here. Just a heads-up!

**Chapter 3: Contribute to the Chaos**

Gabriel stuck around for his end of the year bonus. He deserved it after all the extra hours and soul he'd poured into the company, and while quitting as soon as he realized he hated his workplace would've been more satisfying, he wasn't going to leave without it. Gabriel would suck them dry, just like they'd done to him before he left.

The look on his coworkers' faces was priceless when news spread that he'd handed in his two weeks the day after the New Year's party. Half of them looked as if they'd bitten lemons, and the other half horrified as they realized that Gabriel would no longer be there to cover their asses or tie up loose ends.

Needless to say, his last two weeks were gratifying. It was almost sadistic of him to enjoy watching their spirits sink lower with each passing day in direct proportion to the rising of their anxiety levels, but Gabriel decided he deserved it.

_I'll never let myself be owned like this again,_ he thought as he walked out of that building for the last time, leaving that period of his career behind in his dust.

Gabriel's eyes lingered on the coffee shop he'd first met Sam in when he walked past it, and before he knew it, he'd backtracked and bought himself a cup of coffee and a doughnut. It wasn't until he sat at the table they'd shared just a few months before that he realized it was his same order from the first time.

Sam's absence was the only thing that dampened his spirits. Gabriel wondered if he would've been proud of his decision to walk away from his job and the fast track career he'd been forging.

_Sometimes people can ruin the work we love. You just have to make sure you don't let them before it's too late._

"Cheers, Sam," he whispered, taking a sip of his coffee and hoping fervently that he'd gotten out in time.

Lucifer was the second brother to find out, but the first to visit. He showed up in mid-January with a bottle of fine whiskey in hand and his shirttails fashionably hanging out from pants too tight to be worn outside of the nightclub he ran. His smile, while warmer than usual, held the usual serrated edge. It had turned that way when they were still kids, and Gabriel didn't think it'd ever turn back.

"Baby brother's all grown up," he remarked as they sat on Gabe's L-shaped leather couch and drank in the dying, spastic burst of a sunset that characterized winter. "For a second, I thought maybe all hope was lost. You almost lost your heart to those chumps."

"Well, I didn't," Gabriel said, one arm tossed back on the back of the couch as the other held his glass of whiskey loosely, "I woke up to it just in time. I'm assuming Mikey told you?"

He'd called Michael a few days after he'd left Leviathan Inc. in the dust. The conversation had been short, and Michael had remained remarkably level-headed when Gabriel had dropped the news. No overt emotions Gabriel could pick up on, but since Lucifer was here, he thought that maybe Mikey was a little more concerned than he'd chosen to reveal.

"He did. Looked like he was going to have a nervous breakdown," Lucifer drawled, lips quirking around the glass as he took a sip and savored it. "For some reason, he thinks you'll be living on ramen and saltines in a few months, and sent me to determine how much of the cavalry should be sent in. I thought he was going to have an aneurism the whole time he asked me for help."

Gabriel snorted before propping his feet up on the coffee table. There was nothing on it except for his laptop and their feet, the bareness reflected in the rest of his apartment.

"I think my college years did a number on his psyche. He's such a worrywart."

"Ain't that the truth. What a mother hen," Lucifer lamented, clucking his tongue before fixing sharp blue eyes on him.

"I know money isn't the issue here. Something else is."

"Oh?" Gabriel said, keeping a cool expression as he swirled his glass around and around, spinning the liquor.

Lucifer leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his glass dangling from his almost lax fingers. His smile was falsely benevolent, but his eyes betrayed how hard he was thinking right now, attempting to peel back the layers to see what was bothering him so.

He'd been like this when they were kids too. The coldness hadn't set in yet though, so he'd been more the mother hen than Michael. Gabriel, however, would never say that out loud. Lucifer wouldn't take the reminder of long-gone youth kindly.

"Something gave you the kick in the ass you needed to walk away from that shitty desk job," Lucifer said slowly, words rolling around his mouth and past his teeth, "Michael thinks you were working your way up, and finally maturing, but we both know you were _rotting_ at that place. But you wouldn't listen to me."

Gabriel thought back to a couple of years ago, at the annual family dinner that was held to preserve image and uphold connections many couldn't be half-assed to care about. Cousins Gabe hadn't spoken to since he was in grade school, great aunts and uncles with a foot in the grave and their heads stuck in bigotry; that sort of family affair. Lucifer had gotten a little drunk and boldly proclaimed that Gabriel had sold his soul to the capitalist devil in front of a clan that prided themselves the most on their business savviness.

Needless to say, the rest of the night had been a bit awkward, but Lucifer was right. Gabriel hadn't listened to him then, and while his brother certainly wasn't a paragon of good advice, now and then he got something right.

"But _someone_ got you to listen," Lucifer mused, "Someone other than me. Who, Gabe?"

_Sam._

The name ran across his mind before he could stop himself, and Lucifer seemed to pluck his train of thought right out of his head, or perhaps from his face. Gabriel didn't know how he did it, but he could read people like psychics wished they could read palms and cards, and his accuracy was supernaturally eerie.

"There _was_ someone. Tell me about them," he commanded, and Gabriel scowled into his glass before downing what remained and gesturing for his brother to refill it.

Refusing Lucifer was pointless. He was a greedy bastard, only interested in the taking and razing of the world for his wants. What little kindness he was capable of extended to him and Mikey, and no one else. Lucifer hadn't forged his path through the entertainment industry and spat in the face of family tradition just to sit idle and let something he was curious about slip by.

"Fuck you," Gabriel said spitelessly (because he could never truly hate his brother) and Lucifer cackled, the sound high and clear.

"I know. Now, _talk_."

Gabriel did. He told him of Sam, and of the brief conversation they'd had over a table he'd been kind enough to share with him. He told his brother of how it had taken less than an hour for reality to sink in, and how he'd immediately concluded that he'd gotten his priorities mixed up. He even told him of how Sam haunted him, like a melody from a long-forgotten song.

He hadn't realized just how much Sam had affected him until he got to the last part. By then, the sky was well and truly dark, and Lucifer's intense expression had turned to something unreadable. Gone were his erratic motions and teasing cooing sounds he'd made at the beginning of the story; Lucifer was a disturbingly blank, thoughtful slate.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Gabriel finally asked when his eyes became too much, and Lucifer blinked long and slow before leaning back.

"Thinking," he said in a distant tone that caught Gabriel off guard, "Do you remember that fight Michael and I had that one summer up at the cabin? The one where we were on the dock and I pushed him into the water to make him shut up?"

"Yeah. What about it?" Gabriel asked, confused by Lucifer's change in demeanor. His brother was sitting far too still, like a coiled snake, except without the lethality.

_Or like a stunned snake, trying to recover from a blow._

"We were arguing about what story we should tell you when we went out on the boat," Lucifer said, looking off to the side to recall things better, "We told you one every time we went out. Michael wanted to tell a story about soulmates, and I didn't want to because I thought soulmates were stupid and didn't exist."

_Soulmates?_

"Oh no. No, no, no," Gabriel said, quick to pick up what Lucifer was implying and slashing his hand through the air, "No _way_. That-that's not _possible_."

Gabriel wasn't sure what to make of the surge of emotion in his chest. He had never given soulmates much thought; in his family, they were neither common in conversation nor relationships. His parents hadn't been soulmates, and no one to his knowledge had encountered theirs among the distant people he called relatives. Their family hadn't been blessed like that, but it didn't mean he didn't necessarily believe in them. Gabriel just didn't think there was one out there for _him_.

_But what if it is Sam?_

"It all lines up," Lucifer insisted, gesticulating wildly with his glass. A strange energy had entered him that wasn't his usual thrum of motion, as if the very idea of soulmates had possessed him. " _Think_ about it, Gabe. You meet this cute stranger, and not even an hour later, you decide to finally quit your job after literal _years_ of slaving away at it. You know one of the signs of a soulmate is that they're supposed to change you for the better?"

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it," Gabriel mumbled, suddenly wishing he was drunker. Or that he'd never let Lucifer in at all, but then he wouldn't have the whiskey.

"Don't go into _denial_ -"

"I'm not," Gabriel hissed, setting his glass down with a thunk that threatened to shatter it before running his hands through his hair, "I'm just trying to process how you could come up with such an _insane_ idea-"

"Sam."

The name was like a breath of fresh air, cutting through the buzzing haze the whiskey had been tugging him into. Gabe couldn't hold back the onslaught of memories he had associated with Sam.

Bright sunlight, a slice of October blue sky just visible overhead past the buildings. Every time Gabriel saw that school logo, he thought of Sam's sweatshirt, and whenever he passed someone tall and broad, his eyes always lingered to see if it was him. Sam had smiled so sweetly at him, sweeter than the sugary breakfast he'd had that day.

_Oh, fuck._

Lucifer smiled, triumphant as he poured them both another drink. At this rate, they would be sloshing around the apartment with livers full to the bursting with the stuff, and Lucifer would inevitably make himself at home to ride the hangover out.

"See, even his _name_ affects you. He's your soulmate for sure."

"But-why me?" Gabriel asked plaintively, completely blindsided by the revelation. He could begin to accept the concept, even if he stumbled over the fact that no one in his family had _ever_ had one before.

_There's a first time for everything, right?_

"Now you're asking questions even _I'm_ not clever enough to answer," Lucifer remarked, "But the way you met him doesn't surprise me."

Gabriel tilted his head inquisitively, ignoring the swaying feeling that came with it. He'd have to start drinking water soon; he wasn't 21 and on top of the world anymore.

Lucifer pursed his lips, humming loudly as he tapped a finger on his chin. His brother was back to his extravagant mannerisms, but Gabriel let him gather his thoughts as he sipped at his drink.

"You've always been a rebel. Not the same kind as me, but still a rebel at heart," Lucifer started, "Maybe you haven't always been the most _defiant_ of our wonderful little family, but it's just like you to spit in the face of fate or destiny; whatever you want to call it. Do you remember the soulmate stuff Michael used to tell you?"

Gabriel frowned, thinking back to a childhood he hardly ever thought about nowadays. He had vague recollections of Michael dutifully telling him bedtime stories after their mother couldn't, boyish voice keeping the monsters at bay as much as the glow of the night light.

"Not much. He believed in soulmates?"

"He did then. I don't know now," Lucifer sighed, and for the first time in years, Gabriel saw a shadow of regret pass over his face, "Perhaps I had a part in killing that hope he had. I thought soulmates were a load of shit."

"And now?" Gabriel asked, catching the strange past tense. Lucifer had always made his contempt for soulmates clear. He was too wild and independent to be bound to someone, even if that other person was supposed to be the perfect someone for him.

Lucifer shrugged, downing the rest of his glass in one go before suddenly standing and pointing at him with an authoritative finger.

"You defied the odds, Gabe," he said with one of his characteristic grins. His eyes shone with glee, the expression bordering on feverish as his slightly slurred words poured out of him.

"Soulmates are supposed to meet each other on the universe's timing, but you…you and your Sam somehow _found_ each other, fighting against fate itself, to meet on your own time. It may seem like chance, but something in both of you sought each other out. Something I can believe in because that _thing_ has changed you. It's the same thing that helped you say fuck you to the universe's schedule, and there is absolutely _nothing_ more badass than that."

Lucifer swooped down with more grace than Gabriel thought he possessed this drunk to take a swing straight from the bottle before continuing.

"Don't you _get_ it? You took love straight from God, and-and, _hell_ , you said you were going to have him sooner rather than later! You're so much cooler than me now."

Gabriel stared with wide eyes as Lucifer topped his dramatic monologue by shaking his fist at the ceiling. He was drunk out of his mind, but there was a strength to him that eased the tumultuous coil of emotions threatening to make him finish the bottle on his own.

The thought of Sam kept everything at bay. Now that he had reasoning, however crazy it was, for his constant thinking about him, Gabriel didn't feel as odd for thinking of Sam every time he came across an obstacle or a hard choice he had to make.

Right then and there, watching Lucifer hurl drunken words at the sky outside and banging his hand against the glass (he'd have to clean the handprints off later), Gabriel felt a thread of resolve solidify in him. True belief that Sam, one way or another, was his soulmate, and that he had to do all he could to find him.

"My baby brother, cooler than _me_. Unbelievable," Lucifer fake sobbed before throwing his head back and howling like a hound.

"What the fuck are you _doing_?" Gabriel asked, jumping to his feet and rushing to clap a hand over his idiot brother's mouth. His neighbors were going to put in a noise complaint for sure.

A bona fide _pout_ appeared on Lucifer's face, and Gabriel watched with unease as he began to sway in place with the bottle cradled in his arm.

"Victory cry since you won't!"

"Ok, that's enough of this for tonight," Gabriel murmured, the charged atmosphere broken. The regular, annoying Lucifer was back.

After that, Gabriel did his best to wrangle Lucifer into a more subdued state, ordering some food and attempting to get some water into him. His brother refused to stop drinking, but he switched him to beer to ease the impending whirlwind Lucifer became when he was drunk.

_Not that he isn't a whirlwind when he's sober,_ Gabriel thought wryly as his brother chased teriyaki chicken around his takeout box and smiled at nothing in particular.

Lucifer was the loose cannon of the family; the black sheep so dark for so long that sharing a surname with him felt more like a coincidence than any actual connection. Gabriel loved his brother, more than probably anyone in the family (which wasn't saying much except when you counted Michael), but he knew that Lucifer had never belonged amongst the rest of them. He was a force to be reckoned with, one that couldn't be contained in a suit and an Ivy League business degree.

If anyone would've found a soulmate, it should've been him. Lucifer may have been disdainful of them and imagining someone actually putting up with his brother's shenanigans _willingly_ was hard, but Gabriel still held the sentiment. Lucifer was elemental; that pure force he carried around along with that chip in his shoulder enough to connect him with the universe at some level. Even if all he did with it was shake his fist at God and give humanity a double helping of the finger.

_But instead, I'm the one that found mine on accident._

Sam, with no last name and a bandaged palm. Gabriel could still recall how he'd folded himself up to sit at that small table, a giant living in a world too small for him. A completely chance meeting, but if Lucifer was to be believed, they'd both sought the other out on a level far below conscious and succeeded in bridging the gap that had laid between them, if only for a moment.

_And now I have to go up against the odds to find him again._

"How am I supposed to find him?" Gabriel asked, unable to hide the hopelessness in his voice.

Lucifer lifted his head from glaring at his food, and in the white light that suffused the modern apartment Gabriel couldn't say he liked anymore, his brother almost seemed to glow.

"Don't worry, little brother," he said solemnly, blue eyes so serious that Gabriel had no room to doubt Lucifer's conviction. For once in his life, he wasn't joking around. "We'll find him. Even if it means we have to turn over the whole world."

Gabriel hadn't seen his brother act like this in…well, years; not since they were very young, and their mother was still alive. He'd been the dutiful older brother, always watching out for him, but that dedication had waned and eventually dissipated, replaced by a gaping rift neither he nor Michael had been able to breach. Today, they were on tentative ground (Gabriel better than Michael), but the rift remained.

"Why do you care so much?"

"Because I want to. And you're my brother. That still counts for something," Lucifer said with a frown as he drunkenly puzzled through his words. "I always want to contribute to chaotic experiences. And this-finding your soulmate-is about as good as it'll get. It's a…unique experience that I won't let pass by since I'll never find mine."

Lucifer said it matter of factly, which pained Gabriel for a moment. If he could find his, why not his brother?

"Don't look at me like that," Lucifer tsked, waving a flippant hand, "I don't have romantic expectations. I am here for you, brother of mine!"

And it seemed he was. In his own strange, chaotic way, Lucifer was on his side. A brief period of mild sobering up was spent on the web by him, searching up anything relevant to soulmates and calling out information he felt important as Gabriel cleaned up and prepared the guest room for him.

"What about Brimstone?" Gabriel asked, referencing the nightclub Lucifer had built up from the ground last year. The tongue in cheek name combined with the flame logo they used on their handstamps and whatnot, in his opinion, told everyone all they needed to know about Lucifer.

"Deep cleaning for the rest of the week," Lucifer explained, swiping Gabriel's laptop from the coffee table, "Don't think about that. Think about Sam. We don't have a last name, but…"

His intense research lasted for a grand 12 minutes. Gabriel spent that time preparing the guest room, and when he came out, Lucifer was mostly asleep, head lolling on his shoulder and fingers still on the keys.

Gabriel shook his head with a soft smile (typical idiot Luci), before getting his brother to the guest room. Like much of his apartment, it was impersonal and bland, and Gabriel wondered what had possessed him to outfit his apartment in such minimal fashion. His childhood bedroom had been infamous for the layers of posters practically superglued to the walls.

_Life. Work. Growing up?_

He didn't think it was growing up. More like a slow killing of his soul, or the real Gabriel in him; the one that enjoyed sunshine and thought ties were normalized chokeholds.

"Gabby…"

Gabriel's eye twitched at the horrid nickname as his brother regained some called him that to be purposefully irritating, a trait he'd only elevated over the years until he became insufferable.

"Luci," he retorted, even if the nickname wasn't as grating on his brother's nerves.

"Do you want to know why I hate soulmates so much?"

In the lamplight, Lucifer's fair hair glowed like a halo. His expression hung between tense from the subject and loose from drunkenness, resulting in a strangely lackluster Lucifer with a softened mouth and dark eyes.

"Why?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Lucifer's eyes remained fixed on the ceiling, clouding over as he raised his arms to fold them behind his head.

"Our parents weren't soulmates," he said, one foot going from left to right and left again. It was the only outward sign of restlessness, and his unusual stillness made Gabriel feel uncomfortable. "It was why our mother named us the way she did. Named _me_ the way she did."

Gabriel bit his tongue so he wouldn't interrupt what was clearly an important story. He didn't know much about his mother; only that she'd committed suicide when he was still very young, and that her death wasn't to be discussed in family circles at all.

That, and that she'd been the one to name them. She'd named Lucifer so that he'd stand out, and forever be looked at with double glances and mutters. A curse, their family considered it, but Lucifer had made it into a badge of honor.

"She wanted to spite our father. Their marriage was…okay, all things considered, but out of the two of them, she was the more romantic. She was the one that believed in soulmates, and even though she knew what she was getting into when she married him, she eventually came to regret it. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life without her soulmate."

Lucifer sighed before lifting his head slightly to look at him. The light cast too many shadows over his face and hardened what soft areas alcohol had relaxed him into.

"That's why she killed herself. She was too fearful to search for her soulmate and never find them; she couldn't bear the results of a fruitless search. She just wanted to be free of the burden of it all."

One last sigh escaped Lucifer before he rolled over, bunching up the pillow beneath his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

"How do you know all that? I thought there was no suicide note left," Gabriel asked, stomach twisting as he considered his brother's words. It was the most personal information he'd heard about his mother yet; the most Lucifer had ever talked about her, and he'd still been a boy when she'd died. How could he know all this?

"There was a note."

Gabriel stared at his brother's hunched shoulder and hidden profile before his breath escaped him in a small whoosh that sounded shaky to his ears. He recalled a rumor he'd heard when he was around 9 or 10 from gossiping cousins that he hadn't meant to eavesdrop on, one that he hadn't thought about in a long time due to how absurd it was.

_God, did he really…?_

"Luci…"

"Yeah, I found her," Lucifer admitted, spitting the words out with such bitterness that Gabriel couldn't help but rear back. "I found her in bed, and tried to wake her up, and when she didn't, I cried like a fucking baby and then took the note she'd left behind."

"But… _why_?" Gabriel asked. He wished he'd brought the bottle of whiskey with him, so he could pour both of them enough shots to forget this whole horrible conversation.

"I didn't mean to initially. But then I saw she'd written about soulmates, and I knew then that our father didn't deserve it. No one in our shitty family did. Except us I guess, but you and Michael were still young," Lucifer said, voice thick and words becoming garbled. He was either close to sleep or feeling a new round of drunk symptoms.

"You were young too," Gabriel whispered. Lucifer had been 9 when she'd died, an age that seemed so far away to the both of them now.

"I guess so," Lucifer mumbled before propping himself up a bit on his elbow and looking at him blearily. "You can't tell Mikey. He doesn't know. He's still too far under our family's thumb."

"I know," Gabriel said simply. There was nothing else he could say.

The weight of this decades-old secret weighed on his shoulders as Lucifer slumped once more and began to snore. For the first time in years, he wanted to cry. Not for himself; Sam was a happy thought in his mind, a hope sustained by memories. No, he wanted to cry for his brother, who'd carried this burden for so long, with not even a single word slipped about the subject.

Melancholy gripped him tight as he made his brother comfortable and went to sit out in the living room. The concept of soulmates was bittersweet tonight, weighing heavily on Gabriel's mind as he decided to keep drinking. A horrible coping mechanism for the night's events, but Gabriel drank hard liquor rarely enough that he felt he was entitled to one night of complete and utter alcohol-induced oblivion.

No wonder Lucifer had started acting so strangely. Gabriel was the first in three generations (and probably even more than that) to have found his soulmate, something that was treated as folly and unsubstantiated mythos in his family. His mother had killed herself over it for God's sake, and Lucifer had lived with that knowledge, just letting it fester and twist inside of him until it turned to a complete disregard for romantic relationships and open scorn for anything other than casual sex.

Gabriel took a swig straight from the bottle and savored the burn. Lucifer was filled with faults, but he didn't think his brother had every completely stopped caring about him. There had been rough patches, but Gabriel didn't think it was hopeless optimism that kept him believing that somewhere deep down, there was still a bit of the boy that made up grandiose stories for his younger brothers and didn't smile like it hurt him to show his teeth in anything less violent than a snarl.

Did Lucifer think he'd end up like their mother if they didn't find Sam? Was that why his brother had leaped so eagerly to help, and gotten drunker than usual to boot? He knew Lucifer hadn't been lying when he said he wanted to be part of the chaos of the search; his brother thrived in chaos, but was he worried about what could happen to him if the search failed?

It wasn't common, but Gabriel could recall a few old folktales where soulmates never reunited. Usually, it was because one died in some freak event, but the more melodramatic tales spoke of soulmates that never found each other and ended up wandering the earth forever as spirits, or reincarnating if the universe was kind enough so they could have a second shot in some other life.

Gabriel snorted. It was the stuff of maudlin fairytales and cheesy romance paperbacks. He'd never taken soulmates seriously, partly because of his unluckiness with love and partly because of his family.

_Not that they've always been right about what's best for me, or good in general._

Another sip of whiskey to dull _that_ train of thought, and suddenly Gabriel was back on Sam. Some things about that day had faded, but he could still recall his face as if it'd only been yesterday.

It would be hard, but not impossible. He knew a little more about Sam than just how handsome he was; he had the school logo and was fairly sure that Sam wouldn't up and leave the area anytime soon. Maybe he didn't have a last name or number, but that wouldn't deter him. It was just another challenge, like wrangling a finicky client or keeping Lucifer and Michael from tearing each other's throats out.

Failure wasn't an option. Not only for his sake but also for Lucifer's. His brother had more reason than most to be invested in this search, and Gabriel knew just how hard Lucifer could hit rock bottom. Tenacity defined his brother, but even he had his limits.

"So, let's not fail," Gabriel said, exchanging the bottle for his laptop. There was no time like the present to get something done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timeline isn't chronological due to it going back and forth between Sam and Gabe, but there's no crazy time skips. Just for note, they met in October. Sam's POV from the previous chapter was in April, and this occurred in the January between the two.


	4. Potential at First Sight

**Chapter 4: Potential at First Sight**

The weeks leading up to finals were, in Sam's opinion, torment of the highest form. He studied so much that if it weren't for Dean taking care of him and keeping him from more extreme lengths of work, Sam was sure he would've collapsed promptly after the end of his last exam of the year. As such, he only came home and took a much deserved, but reasonable nap, and woke up in time to be taken out for a surprise night of bar hopping.

"You'll be a lawyer in no time Sammy," Dean crowed, beer bottle raised high as his other arm rested loosely across Cas' shoulders.

They'd commandeered a crescent-shaped booth about an hour ago, and the drunkest out of them was currently Dean. All of them had high tolerances; Cas had the highest (which had been a major shock to Sam when he'd first learned of it), and Sam knew it was going to be a long night if they really intended to cut loose and bar hop till all the doors shut.

There was something exuberant about Dean though, an energy that Sam couldn't pin to just alcohol and celebrating the end of his school year. Dean was only a happy drunk in the early stages of a drinking session, but he was still grinning and cozying up to Cas by the time they hit their third bar in a way that would've made Sam feel like a third wheel if Cas hadn't kept engaging him in conversation.

"There's something up with him," Sam announced when Dean departed for the bathroom. This bar was crowded enough that they had only managed to snag a tall table they stood at, and people seemed more focused on the TV screens showing sports games than anything else.

_Of course Dean would eventually drag us to one of these kinds of bars._

Cas shifted closer to reply over the music and raucous cries resounding around them. His rosy cheeks were the only sign he'd been drinking; that and the shirt sleeves he'd rolled up.

"There is. It's supposed to be a surprise, but he bullied us into taking the same week off of work for a reason. He wants to visit Kansas."

It took Sam a herculean effort to not choke on the sip of beer he'd taken. Cas thumped his back, and Sam wiped his watering eyes before gaping fully at him.

" _Kansas_? Are you sure?" he asked, thoughts trying to break through the floating feeling he'd gained about half an hour back. Even with sticking to beer (a habit he'd developed during the school year so he wouldn't have to deal with killer hangovers on precious weekend time), Sam had a suspicion he was on the wrong side of sober to deal with this topic.

"Very sure," Cas said, and for the first time, Sam noticed the mild panic that laced his voice, "He wants me to meet your parents."

Sam's brain came to a screeching halt. He was so thrown by the idea of Dean _willingly_ bringing Cas to meet their _parents_ that he nearly knocked their drinks over.

Dean came back before he could remark on it further, but Sam paid close attention to the couple for the rest of the night, limiting his drinking so he could mull on the situation Cas had presented before him.

At first, it was impossible to believe Dean would be the one to take this important step forward, but the more he observed his brother, the more he realized that he wasn't the same man that had driven out the West Coast months ago out of filial obligation. That Dean had been rough and battered around the edges from long trips on roads to nowhere and carried around a heart so guarded it might as well not even exist.

The change had been so subtle beneath the obvious differences in his brother that Sam didn't even realize he was looking at a whole new Dean until tonight. This Dean, the one that put a protective hand on the small of Cas' back to steer him through throngs of people and listened intently whenever he spoke, was both a far cry from the old Dean and somehow similar. It was as if this Dean had been waiting beneath the surface for Cas to pull him out.

_Is that what gaining a soulmate does?_

It made sense. Bettering each other, it seemed, was a process that Sam had underestimated. It was one thing to know it was a common phenomenon that soulmates went through, and another to truly grasp the extent of it.

At the end of the night, they decided to part ways, as Dean was too drunk to make it back to their place. Cas' apartment was closer, and besides, Dean was clinging to him and looking which so much want at the poor man that Sam was sure that if the walk in the balmy air sobered him up enough, Dean would jump Cas' bones in a heartbeat.

"Will you be alright?" Cas asked as they reached the street corner they would part at. They'd called it quits shortly after midnight when Dean refused to slow down on the shots, so there was still a bit of activity going on around them.

"I'll be fine. How about you?" Sam asked, hoping Cas picked up on his underlying meaning.

Cas blinked, reactions slowed by alcohol before he picked up on what he was trying to say.

"I'll be fine. I'm happy, but you know me. I always want to be prepared," he said, ignoring Dean's sloppy kiss to the jaw and righting him before he tipped over.

Sam nodded, relieved that Cas wasn't getting cold feet in the relationship. It was just a matter of him wanting to know everything about what he was getting into beforehand, and knowing Dean, his brother probably hadn't talked much about their parents besides the general facts.

The next day, Sam acted surprised when Dean announced that they would be road-tripping back to Kansas. He packed appropriately and answered all of Cas' nervous questions, whether it be through text or covert periods when Dean wasn't around. He wanted to know about their parents, and their childhood, and what Kansas was like in general. Cas had never left California and was hyperaware that their upbringings had been very different.

"My parents died in a car crash a few years back," Cas explained during one of the questions sessions, "So he'll never have to meet them, which I'm relieved about in a way."

Sam had come over to borrow some books for the trip, as he'd been treating himself to what Dean called "the bookstore" and he'd decided to linger as he had no other obligations. The books rested on his lap now, heavy like the sudden weight in his stomach as he pondered Cas' words and far off expression.

"Were they…not nice people?" he asked tentatively.

Cas' eyes refocused, and he let out a startled laugh before shaking his head.

"No, they were fine. A bit strict, but not abusive. It's just that my father abhorred the idea of soulmates. Thought it was a stupid concept that had no scientific base. Sometimes my mother thought the same way, but she told me the same stories you were told as a child, so I think maybe she had a seed of faith."

Sam nodded, relieved, and Cas went back to questioning him at a rapid-fire pace.

The trip itself was largely uneventful. They left in the middle of the night, too excited to wait any longer, and drove the whole day through deserts before approaching the Rockies. Cas gawked at the wide expanses of bare land bordered only by the looming mountains, and Sam knew that he was intimidated by the open sky and never-ending landscapes by the way he clutched Dean's hand at times.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing, Sammy?"

They were sitting on the front hood of the Impala, stopped for the night in a small motel in Utah. Cas had long since passed out in their room, worn out by the nature of the road and changing land.

"I'm not moving too fast, am I?" he asked, brow creased as he looked at him with worry.

"No," Sam said, shaking his head and clapping a firm hand on his shoulder before he could descend into an unnecessary spiral of overthinking. "You two are soulmates. You've been going at the right pace for the both of you ever since you met."

Dean relaxed, and Sam knew that the doubt wouldn't eat at him anymore when he left shortly after to check on Cas. He remained outside, content to watch the stars, and inhale the chilly mountain air.

In a way, it was all about pace. The fast, breakneck speeds Dean loved to drive at, reflected in the way he loved Cas only after he'd gotten his shit together and accepted they were soulmates. The docile, but steadfast pace Cas returned, banking Dean's flame so it could burn longer and stronger for the future.

Sam's own pace was unknown. He was drifting now, untethered with only the knowledge Gabriel was somewhere out there. In love, he'd always been described as slow and gentle, and he wondered what Gabriel's pace would be like. Sam suspected he might be fast and fluid behind the iron mask he'd affixed on his face for a job he'd held so much visible distaste for.

Would he be able to temper Gabriel like Cas could Dean? Would his gentleness be received positively? It had deterred others in the past, but Sam didn't know how to be anything but himself.

Sam thought of Gabriel often in the last half of their trip. The winding descent back down into open land passed in a haze as he read and daydreamed of the businessman. He thought about where he could be, and what kind of person he was, and while his thoughts were nothing new, Sam enjoyed trotting the well-worn paths inside his head. Either Gabriel would be something like he imagined and getting to know him would be comfortable like returning to a warm house, or he would shatter any preconceived notions, and Sam would be pleasantly surprised.

No matter what though, Sam was sure he'd love him. It was too early to say he did love him the way Dean and Cas loved each other, but he knew he had the capacity to, and above all, there was the _potential_. That was what characterized soulmates; the infallible potential a connection had, and the guarantee that love would bloom someday between two individuals.

It wasn't love at first sight, but rather potential at first sight and Sam found that more beautiful than the former.

They were welcomed with open arms by their mother, who barely seemed to have aged while Sam was away. He hadn't seen her in person for over a year, and he wasn't ashamed to admit that he was the first out of the Impala to bound up the walkway to greet her.

"Got tired of being cramped in the backseat?" she teased, and Sam smiled before hugging her tighter.

"Something like that."

The house had changed very little while he was gone. The curtains were a different color, and they'd replaced his father's battered armchair with a new one, but besides that, everything was as he remembered. Sam nudged Cas on the couch and shot him a comforting look while Dean brought in all their luggage on their mother's orders.

"Don't worry, she already loves you," he murmured as they heard her bustling in the kitchen to fix up some coffee. They had arrived on the cusp of sunset, but John would be even later, as he'd gone out for a drink with some friends and this was supposed to be a surprise for him too.

"How can you be so sure?" Cas whispered back, eyes wide and hands wringing themselves as he looked around the living room.

"Because I've called her plenty of times to put in a good word for you," Sam said with a roll of his eyes, "And she's my mom. I just know."

"You did that?"

"Of course I did," Sam said, slinging an arm around Cas' shoulders and smiling cheekily when Dean passed by with a glare, "You're pretty much a second brother to me. If I can grease the wheels where I can, I will."

Cas' face softened, and Sam's momentary unsureness that he may have crossed a line too quickly with the brother title faded.

"The faster you bring in the luggage, the faster you can sit with your boyfriend," Mary remarked from the kitchen as Dean came downstairs in a huff.

"I don't know why Sam isn't helping," Dean glowered.

Mary exited the kitchen with a tray laden down with coffee and cookies, setting them down before giving her cryptic answer.

"I have to talk to him on the porch swing."

That earned confused looks from all three of them, but nobody protested when she politely excused herself from Cas and gestured for Sam to follow outside.

Mary had always been a bit out there. Not crazy like some nasty people that didn't know them liked to imply. Everyone in their family knew that Mary's perceptiveness was just a touch uncanny in its accuracy and that there was nothing wrong with her mind. She was always a few steps ahead of everyone and always willing to lead them to where she was if they just listened to her.

Still, the logical explanation they gave for her perceptiveness didn't quite cut it for Sam. Maybe it was because sometimes he too got strange senses and inklings about things he shouldn't have known on his own, but he never brought it up with anyone because they weren't very notable to begin with. So what if he could sniff out a person's intentions right down to the letter sometimes? In cases like with his crappy roommates, his odd skill had been nowhere to be found.

She'd never claimed to have any sort of sixth sense though, or even describe how she knew what to say and what to do, so Sam never mentioned it. He suspected that the reason they were so close was that his mother believed he thought along the same lines as her, but he couldn't be sure. She'd never brought it up, and if she didn't think it necessary, then Sam wouldn't either.

Either way, no one questioned Mary when she said to do something in that distinct tone of voice. Not even his father, and he was a hard man to persuade sometimes.

So Sam listened to his mother as she gestured for him to sit on the swing that had once been a fond tool of imagination in his youth. He was too big to pretend it was a boat on a sea now but sitting with his mother and gently rocking in it brought back memories, nonetheless.

"Your soulmate continues to elude you," she remarked as Dean went for the last of their luggage.

"He's a hard man to find," Sam replied, resting his head on her shoulder and sticking his tongue out at Dean when he walked back up to the house.

"I'll remember this," Dean said ominously, and Sam shook his head.

"No, you won't, because now you'll be alone with Cas."

Dean harrumphed as Mary murmured a motherly "play nice boys", but Sam saw the pleased, anticipatory smile on his brother's face before the screen door slammed shut behind him.

"It'll be soon," Mary remarks after a few minutes of silent swinging.

Sam doesn't question the certainty in her voice; he'd learned not to question his mother when she got like this a long time ago, but it's still hard to bite his tongue to keep from asking _how soon is soon?_

She must've seen the dilemma on his face because she laughed and smoothed his hair down a bit before looking back out onto the street. John had hung the swing up on an angle so Mary could have the best view over twenty years ago.

"Very soon," she said with a smile, "From what you told me, I think that perhaps Gabriel needs to sort himself out first before you two could be reunited. To love himself and his life before he can love you properly."

"And what about me? That makes it sound like I'm not supposed to do anything besides wait, but that doesn't seem fair," Sam said, frowning as he tried to puzzle through it all.

He'd accepted that he wouldn't be the one to find Gabriel months back, but surely, he wasn't just supposed to sit on his hands while Gabriel reinvented himself and searched for him? Wasn't he supposed to put forth some effort as well on self-improvement?

_Why are soulmates so confusing?_

"You have the harder role," Mary said, kicking off of the porch harder so they didn't lose momentum. "You have to be patient and accepting of whatever person Gabriel will become. He walked away from what many people see as a comfortable desk job for the unknown, and not everyone can accept something like that."

"But it wasn't making him _happy_ ," Sam stressed, remembering how Gabe adjusted his tie tighter as if it wasn't already strangling him to death. "Of course I wouldn't have wanted him to stay there. If he's happier working at-I don't know, a gas station or as truck driver-then that's just how it'll be."

"And that is why there is little you have to do on your end," Mary said, eyes shining proudly at him. "You naturally possess the qualities many struggle with. Faith, patience, selflessness. You've already accepted Gabriel, come how he may, even if you don't realize it. Your work is done, Sam."

The familiar rumble of a truck engine made Sam look up to see his father turn the corner onto their street. Soon, the intricate dance of introducing Cas to the family will grow immensely more complicated, as John's approval is far harder to win. Sam knew better than anyone just how hard it was, but something told him that it would go fine. John Winchester believed in soulmates just like the rest of them.

"I don't feel like the great person you're making me out to be," he grumbled, still a bit hung up on the concept.

Mary laughed before reaching for his scarred hand. Her fingers ran over the pink, starburst shaped flesh as if he was six again and scraped another knee on the sidewalk.

"That is what selfless people say about themselves," she remarked, expressions wistful and a bit sad as she looked down at his scar. "And this is the proof."

Sam didn't have time to question her further on what she meant, as his father was already out of the truck and frozen comically on the first step of the porch.

"Honestly John, did you think it was just Dean?" Mary asked, nudging Sam to get him to stand, which he did very nervously. He hadn't been home in over a year, and the last proper conversation he'd had with his father hadn't exactly gone well.

However, much to his surprise, John didn't hesitate to stride forward and tug him into a back-slapping hug that took Sam only a moment to return.

"Good to see you, son," he said gruffly, pulling back to hold on at arm's length. His face became a bit guarded, but his tone remained consistent as he followed up with, "I heard you did well on your exams."

It was the clearest olive branch John Winchester had probably ever offered in his life, and Sam didn't need his mother's prompting to accept it for what it was. Sam didn't like being at odds with his family now that he was so far away from them, and while he'd probably always butt heads with his dad, he didn't want to be purposefully resentful or grudging.

Integrating Cas went better than expected. Sam didn't have to mediate nearly as much as he feared he would, but then, he'd always been the type to be overprepared. In his opinion, he'd been right to go over worst-case scenarios, as Mary had been the only outsider that knew the full details on Cas. Dean had hesitated in telling John himself, and before they'd left, Mary said that she'd neither told John they were coming nor had she told them the full details on Cas. All John knew was that Dean was dating someone seriously, and he would be coming to Kansas alone.

There was a bit of awkwardness at the beginning because of the lack of context Mary had deliberately withheld, but once Sam saw her silently laughing behind her hand at John's attempt to pretend as if he'd known all along that Dean was bringing home a male accountant with a ridiculously deep voice, he knew she'd meant no harm by it. It was just one of her mini-tests that John passed, albeit by the skin of his teeth as he shot beseeching looks at Mary and scrutinizing ones at Cas like he was trying to figure out what made him Dean's soulmate.

It occurred to him about halfway through dinner that perhaps introducing Cas like this was also a heads up for John when Sam eventually brought Gabriel home. The wink Mary gave him as she passed the rolls to him confirmed his suspicions that once again, his mother had killed two birds with one stone with no one but them being the wiser.

Later that night, with Dean and John drunk and Cas moderately tipsy on the back porch, Mary lead him to the front once more to sit down on the porch swing. Sam had never really thought of it as _their_ swing, but as they sat and listened to the dry night wind whistle down the street to coast over the fields beyond, Sam realized that it might as well have been theirs. They were the ones that used it the most and the most consistently.

"How does it feel to be freshly 25?" she asked as they drifted back and forth across the porch, fireflies flitting here and there. There weren't too many since it wasn't quite summer yet, but Sam remembered how they'd come out in great scores that he'd chase endlessly around the backyard with an open jar and Dean on his heels.

May 2nd had passed well if a bit empty without Gabriel. He'd received well wishes from friends over social media, and a few phone calls from closer ones. Jess had called, as well as Kevin. Dean had gotten a cake for him, only to shove both his and Cas' face into after he'd blown out invisible candles since his brother had somehow forgotten to buy some. Cas hadn't been too pleased, but they all laughed when he'd pulled out another cake from the fridge and admitted that he suspected Dean would do such a thing.

"I'm officially a quarter of the way through life. My bones ache in the morning and my back hates me."

"Don't get smart with me," Mary said, slapping his shoulder lightly before clicking her tongue, "25 is still young."

In the glow of the buzzing yellow porchlight, the silver streaks in his mother's vibrant hair became apparent. Mary hadn't aged much since he'd been gone, but for the first time, Sam realized that it didn't mean she wasn't aging. The silver, shining like the moths that flitted around the light above their heads, didn't lie.

_One day she'll be gone, and I'll be alone on this swing._

She smiled, knowing what he was thinking, before smoothing a hand down his own still dark hair.

"One day, you'll sit on this swing with your Gabriel, and I'll be here to see it," she said, voice light and lilting.

"You better be," Sam grumbled, hoping to hide his emotions with the gruffness that Dean and John always employed, and Mary laughed.

"Do you remember the story of the knight and the bard?"

"Yes," Sam said with a wry smile as he recalled how, just a little over a month ago, he'd recounted it himself. "I told it to Cas. Reminds you of me and Gabriel?"

"It does. It was one of your favorite stories," Mary remarked. "You liked all the stories I told you, but you liked the ones where people had to suffer a bit before they received their happiness."

"Isn't that how the world works?"

They leaned back in tandem, and Sam thought of the seas he sailed in his childhood, and of Gabriel. The buzzing of crickets in the grass morphed into the spray of the sea, and the creaking of the porch swing turned into the groans of a ship's deck beneath his feet.

"I'll tell it to you one more time. For old time's sake," Mary whispered.

"Once upon a time," Sam started, and Mary picked up the thread of the story seamlessly, her voice rolling over him like the waves he sailed.

"There was a noble knight who kept the land safe from monsters…"

He had to wait for his reward, but his mother was right. Sam had always been patient. It was a rare quality that had only grown as he'd gotten older, and he would continue to cultivate it in Gabriel's absence, letting it temporarily fill the space where the sliver of his heart used to be. That piece he thought he'd carelessly let slip away wasn't so careless in retrospect. Sam had _given_ it, acting in a manner similar to the way Cas had described the way soulmates carried a piece of each other so they had something to lead them back together.

Gabriel would carry that piece, and Sam would tend to the ache in his heart quietly, waiting until the day came that his patience was rewarded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to rearrange things a bit in the mental plot I built in my head when I decided I wanted to go back and forth between present and past more, so this chapter took a little longer. Destiel and all the pining Sam and Gabe do will have to sate you guys until we get to the true Sabriel, but things will pick up after Gabe's POV in the next chapter.


	5. Brother of Mine

**Chapter 5: Brother of Mine**

Gabriel hadn't been to a nightclub in years. He never had the time, not even for Lucifer's when he initially opened it. Paperwork and clients took precedence over a night of partying and drinking fun concoctions. However, if he was going to reinvent himself properly, the first thing he had to do was get wasted.

In Lucifer's opinion, that is. Gabriel didn't think that was an actual first step, but he was adrift now, with no obligations or expectations weighing on him. His sole goal was to find Sam, and he didn't want to meet his soulmate wearing a suit and tie. Gabriel hated that version of himself and wanted to strip it all away and make someone new, someone _better_ , that could love Sam the way he deserved to be loved.

The problem was that he had to get rid of his old self first. Purge it all out of his system; wipe the slate clean. Lucifer had suggested drinking, and while Gabriel knew it wasn't the best way to do it, his brother _did_ have a whole nightclub with some impressive liquor selections. Plus, February was a short month, and according to Lucifer, it was fairly slow business-wise once Valentine's Day was over and done with. There was room for him at the bar.

So he drank. A _lot_.

"Gabe…Gabe, brother dearest…are you awake?"

Gabriel groaned before lifting his head off the cool marble bar, squinting up at the blurry form that had to be Lucifer, judging by the amount of white he was wearing. On special occasions in Brimstone, Lucifer busted out white ensembles to make himself stand out all that much more from the teeming crowds of people that came from all over just for the chance to get inside.

"Whayouwan?"

"Very intelligible, Gabe," Lucifer remarked, plucking a glass from his hand and sniffing the leftover contents experimentally. "Oh, you persuaded Meg to give you the _really_ good stuff?"

"You said to give him what he wanted," a dry, female voice Gabriel had become familiar with over the past week said on the other side of the bar.

"I did say that, didn't I?"

"Ugh, I'm up," Gabriel said, smacking his dry lips as he pulled his heavy head upward. The room swam around him but considering Brimstone largely consisted of dark, shiny materials to better reflect the firelight (some real, some fake) that lit up the place, there wasn't much to distinguish between anyway.

"Good, because Michael is here, and I need you to tell him that you agreed to this and that I'm not trying to sway you to the dark side with scintillating substances."

Half of what came out of Lucifer's mouth went into one ear and right out the other, but Gabriel registered Michael, which was really the most important bit considering he could see him standing at the end of the bar with a scowl on his face.

_Fuck._

"Oh, hi Mikey!" Gabriel said, waving at him and now understanding why Lucifer had bothered to interrupt him on his…five-day long partying binge?

_No, six. This is definitely day 6._

"Gabriel," Michael replied stiffy, one perfectly polished shoe tapping out a steady rhythm on the shiny black tile that made up Brimstone's floor.

"Lucifer," Lucifer said, spreading his arms slightly and looking between the two of them. "Just thought I'd throw my name out there too."

"Why do I work for you?" Meg asked.

"Because I let you beat up the people that get too handsy with you," Lucifer retorted, brushing imaginary dust off of his bare shoulder. The scrap of fabric he counted as a shirt was flimsy enough to glow in the now dim, quiet interior.

_Morning,_ Gabriel thought hazily as Lucifer tugged him off the stool and towards the back halls that wound through the building like hidden veins. _Only time Mikey would ever dare step foot in here._

"Your concern for Gabe really is unfounded, little brother. He's only been indulging in the sweeter aspects of life to compensate for the dreary years he wasted in corporate hell," Lucifer said, a hand clamped firmly on Gabriel's elbow.

Gabriel could walk; he hadn't gotten _that_ drunk tonight, but it still felt nice to have the grounding touch. Footsteps echoed in Brimstone's vaulted ceilings when the place was closed and empty, and people's voices tended to get lost in the wide-open spaces as well.

"So you replace it with a fresh new hell?" Michael asked from somewhere behind them, voice cold with distaste.

"More like Paradise on Earth," Lucifer replied, no doubt looking over his shoulder to pin Michael with an icy warning glare. "Don't let the name deceive you."

"Who are you nattering at now, Luci?"

Gabriel knew they'd arrived in what the employees teasingly called "The King's Chambers" by both the distinct British voice and the marked rise in temperature. Brimstone was kept colder than a meat locker to combat body heat except for the important backrooms and Lucifer's selection of rooms.

"My brother. Balthie, get some water and aspirin into Gabe, yeah? C'mon Gabe, let's get you down on the futon."

"The futon. What're we in your office for?" Gabriel asked as his vision went horizontal. Lucifer's office was remarkably cozy, decorated in a weird mishmash of stuffy Victorian fashion and modern commodities. The futon was plush, and a piece of furniture he'd grown intimately familiar with over the past week.

"Reasons," Lucifer said, manhandling him into a somewhat upright position before letting Balthazar, his music producer friend, take over. "Michael, please sit. Let that Armani suit rest for a bit."

"I'm not here to _sit_."

"You here to get laid? It's closing hours if you haven't noticed," Gabriel piped up, unable to help himself.

"I'm here to collect you," Michael said, sounding exactly as if he was talking about a package.

"No, you're not," Lucifer sighed, flopping down into his horribly fancy office chair and propping his feet up on the desk, revealing ankle bracelets that glinted in the soft light that lit the room.

Gabriel wasn't surprised by the unconventional jewelry. Lucifer was eclectic that way; always jumping from one thing to the next with little regard for what anyone thought, and he somehow made it all work.

Michael's eye predictably twitched at the sight before he pinched the bridge of his nose, one of the few emotion revealing gestures he allowed himself nowadays.

"Yes, I am," he said, somehow getting a forced pleasant tone through gritted teeth. "Gabriel has three days' worth of stubble, unkempt hair, and concerned calls he should respond to."

"What crawled up his ass and died?" Balthazar muttered as he handed Gabriel some water and pills, to which he snorted.

"Everything."

"No, he doesn't. His only concern is to drink away his former self and emerge renewed with a new drive for life!" Lucifer cried dramatically, throwing his arms into the air.

"How is he supposed to do that if his liver is riddled with cirrhosis like Swiss Cheese?"

"You can't get cirrhosis in a week. Just look at me!"

"I'm doing my best _not_ to right now."

" _Rude_. I looked especially ravishing tonight. This shirt really emphasizes my-"

"Don't finish that sentence, so _help me God_ -"

"Earth to brothers!" Gabriel exclaimed, waving his empty water glass like a white flag. It had helped to clear his head a little and parch his dry mouth, but he knew the thrumming in his head wouldn't quit yet.

They both turned to look at him, and he chucked the glass at Michael's face, watching his brother fumble for it with a shocked look.

"I'm fine Mike. Now shut up before you make my headache worse. I'm here of my own volition, and I don't give a damn about anyone in the family besides the two other people that share flesh and blood with me in this room."

"So speaketh the chosen one," Balthazar declared with fanfare as Gabriel flopped back against the futon with a jaw cracking yawn.

"Well, that settles that," Lucifer said after a moment of silence, clapping his hands once before tugging his legs off the desk.

"No," Michael said, ever obstinate as a frown scrunched up his features. "I won't let this continue on a day more. I shudder to think about the diseases Gabriel could've picked up-"

"Um, one, I'm still here, and two, I haven't slept with anyone, so no STD's," Gabriel butted in, accepting the protein bar Balthazar handed him with a nod of thanks. Really, the man did too much for him, even if he did owe Lucifer some sort of important debt. Neither of them was forthcoming on the details (which was remarkable considering how chatty they could be), which only meant that whatever the debt was, it was _important_.

_Hopefully, it doesn't involve a dead body or something like that.  
_

Michael arched a disbelieving eyebrow, turning to look to Lucifer for verification of the unbelievable information. If Gabriel hadn't had such a prolific history of lovers in his youth, he would've been hurt by his skepticism.

"Hasn't even kissed anyone," Lucifer confirmed with a smirk. "Gabby's not in college anymore. He's saving himself for his _true love_."

Gabriel frowned as Michael snorted-actually _snorted_ -before setting the glass down on the desk.

"Gabriel, no such thing exists. Don't let Lucifer string you along on some fool's chase with his pretty words and alcohol. I'll bring you back and get you cleaned up. There are better companies than Leviathan Inc. out there that will utilize you better-"

"I don't want to be _utilized_ ," Gabriel said, ignoring the sting of Michael's callous words ( _no such thing exists_ ) as he pulled himself upright. "And he _is_ out there. I've met him."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lucifer gesture for Balthazar to leave, and his brother waited until he had before inserting himself into the growing tension with a razor-sharp smile and hooded eyes.

"His name's _Sam_ ," Lucifer said, smile widening as Michael turned slightly to look at him. "And he exists. I know he does."

" _Sam_ ," Michael repeated, wrinkling his nose before fixing Lucifer with a sharp, suspicious look. "Why do you speak as if he's some mythical figure?"

"Because he's Gabriel's lost soulmate, and a reunion is currently in progress since it was a chance meeting."

Michael's eyes widened a fraction before he tossed his head back and laughed, the sound too high and too fast to be normal.

"That's it. You've lost your mind, and you're dragging Gabriel along with you. Soulmates don't _exist_ ; you said so yourself," Michael chuckled, running his palm over his sleek dark hair.

"They _do_ exist. No one else could've made me leave that shitty job the way that I did," Gabriel said, feeling indignant and stubborn and now much more than a little hurt by Michaels' reaction.

Michael had stepped up as a brother when Lucifer had faltered. He'd gotten him through his teen years, keeping him focused on school and doing his best to make sure that he didn't rebel the way Lucifer did. It was bad enough that one brother was the focus of scorn in the family. Michael didn't want him to suffer what Lucifer had.

But in the process, Michael had lost himself. His brother had become a ruthless businessman, hell-bent on creating his version of reality and unwilling to let anyone take control in a way that mattered. The kind, good-hearted boy he'd been had morphed into a man that, while still idealistic, spoke too practically and callously to be truly kind.

He didn't love money or fame. That wasn't the problem and Gabriel knew Michael still loved them both, but it wasn't enough. Michael's ideas and what he believed to be true of the world won out at the end of the day over his brothers.

"Maybe you did meet someone and become infatuated with a stranger. That doesn't mean that Sam is your soulmate," Michael replied dismissively, now looking irritated at what he must perceive as a waste of his time. "It just means you let your heart take over control of your head."

"Better than being a corporation's bitch," Lucifer drawled, poison dripping off his tongue. "When's the last time you wore anything other than a suit? I bet you wear it to bed, you whipped dog."

Gabriel pressed back against the futon as the two entered a staring match. The air was rife with tension, but neither appeared to care to continue spitting vitriol when they could do it with their eyes along. They were visual and personality opposites clashing once more in a long string of conflicts that stretched back to a childhood none of them cared to recall in detail.

He knew Lucifer was just trying to defend him, and Michael was just trying to take care of him, but Gabriel was once again caught in the middle of the fight. It always ended up like this whenever they were all together. Love soured into anger and good intentions were lost in the process.

He hated it.

Before Gabriel could try to intervene (because he always intervened and always got hurt right alongside his brothers), the phone on Lucifer's desk rang.

Lucifer didn't break eye contact as he answered it, listening to whoever was on the other end with a blank face and burning eyes.

"Send him to the Green Room," he said curtly before slamming the phone down into the receiver hard enough to make the entire phone bounce off the desk.

Neither Gabriel nor Michael flinched at the violent act. They'd long grown used to Lucifer's methods of expelling excess anger.

"Gabriel, I called someone that may be able to help us find Sam. Go meet him," he said, flexing his fingers as his eyes slid to him. They weren't burning anymore, and his voice wasn't nearly as sharp. To a stranger, it would appear that Lucifer had calmed down, but Gabriel knew better.

"What about you two?" he asked. He was wary of leaving his brother in a room alone together when they got like this. The last time had ended up with both of them needing stitches and the family house losing a coffee table.

"Don't worry, brother of mine. Michael just needs a little bit of… _enlightenment_ to the situation at hand."

_Does he mean…_

Nothing in Lucifer's face gave him away, but he now looked smaller, and more human with his smudged eye makeup and messy hair. The flimsy white outfit dangled from him like scraps of stolen moonlight, no longer so wonderous and eye-catching in the quiet of his office. It was as if he was playing dress-up; an imposter trying to fill the shoes of a larger than life person he could barely keep up with.

Gabriel could feel Michael's searching eyes on his as he stood on wobbly legs. He didn't fall back or stagger as he left the room without another word, which he took pride in since he'd gotten especially drunk that night.

He wasn't sure how the conversation he'd left would go, but Gabriel had a feeling it would go okay. Not perfect; neither of his brothers was there yet, but perhaps he could place a bit more faith in Lucifer than usual. Lucifer didn't look that small very often.

_As long as no one ends up dead, it's a win in my books.  
_

The Green Room was the prototype room for Lucifer's second nightclub. Gabriel had learned on his first tour of Brimstone that his brother was interested in opening another, as Brimstone had exploded in popularity and he liked the business. Ironic, as his brother had entered the music industry to get as far away as possible from the business world, but as his brother spoke of his plans with a spark in his eye and genuine excitement, Gabriel couldn't find it in himself to point it out to Lucifer. Even his eldest black sheep of a brother had inherited the family's savvy business sense.

"About time you showed up," Meg said in way of greeting as Gabriel pushed open the door.

The scent of plants greeted him, the natural floral scents cutting through the fog in his head, and the taste of alcohol still heavy on his tongue. Greenery dominated the room, which was, in reality, a sunroom of sorts in the very back of the building, guarded on three sides by high stone walls and topped by a glass ceiling. Lucifer said that it mattered little to him if it was kept a secret or not from the patrons, but there was an unspoken agreement that the longer it was preserved like this, the better. It was the only place on the premises that hadn't been subjected to the hellfire theme that characterized Brimstone, and there was a purity in the secret that Gabriel respected.

No one was sure what Lucifer was going for besides the whole plant vibes, but Gabriel thought it was something like a ruined Garden of Eden. There were stone and wood fixtures, broken statues, and a fountain that bubbled further in big enough to sit on the rim of. Sometimes, crows would fly in if someone left one of the panels open above, and Lucifer delighted in getting close to them and bribing them with food in exchange for some truly impressive photo shots that only heightened in eccentric social media presence.

"You try dealing with Lucifer when he's mad," he grumbled in response, glancing up at the pearly dawn. The cotton candy pinks and blues were soft enough that it didn't aggravate his growing headache.

"Point taken," Meg winced. She was sitting at one of several small tables that were scattered around the room, chair angled away from a scrawny man with a beanie pulled over his head and art supplies laid out.

_Lucifer wanted me to meet…an artist?_

"What's all this?" Gabriel asked as he approached, confused and unwilling to puzzle it out on his own and waste brainpower.

"Uh, I'm Garth. Your very scary brother hired me to do a composite sketch," the scrawny guy said, standing and extending an eager hand smudged with graphite and God knew what else.

Gabriel accepted it readily. It was an automatic motion leftover from the business world (perhaps drinking _wouldn't_ purge everything out), and besides, he respected Garth's nerve to come to Brimstone at the ass crack of dawn on his brother's whim.

"Wait, a composite? What of… _oh_ ," Gabriel said, finally picking up the slack as he sat down.

Lucifer had hired an artist so they could get a sketch of Sam. What they would do with it, Gabriel had no clue, but he felt an unexpected warmth at the action. It was completely in character for Lucifer to do something so dramatic in an attempt to help.

"Lucifer-and I _still_ can't believe that's his given name-is paying me a _lot_ for this, so just know that you won't make me mad if you make me fix the nose or something like ten times," Garth said, blue eyes bright as he reached for a pencil. "Plus, he was nice enough to let me do this before my morning classes, and Meg brought me coffee, so I'm ready whenever you are."

"He talked this much _before_ the coffee," Meg explained when Gabriel darted an inquisitive glance at her.

"So rude. I love it. You'd fit great on campus," Garth said, grabbing a smaller, personal sketchbook and flipping it open to show Gabriel. "Here, doesn't she look great on paper?"

Gabriel had to admit, the kid had skill. It had obviously been done quickly, more to capture the basics of her face, but Garth had somehow gotten her snark and acid personality down to a tee with the pencil strokes.

Meg spluttered, clearly unaware that Garth had taken the time to sketch her as they'd waited for him, but Garth was already moving on.

"I like doing warm-up sketches, so take your time and think of the person's face while I loosen up. I'd draw Meg again, but I think she'd kill me, so I'll draw you," Garth said, glancing sheepishly at the now fuming bartender before smiling brightly at him.

"You're the expert here kid," Gabriel shrugged. Garth's enthusiasm was hard to resist, so he just went with the flow.

After warming up (and producing some fairly decent headshots), Garth began to ask him questions. Some made sense, like how long Sam's hair was, but others didn't, like how strong the sun had been on that day. Gabriel did his best to answer, but drowsiness was beginning to kick in, and it was hard not to meander into tidbits of information that wouldn't help Garth produce an accurate sketch. More than once he had to rein in his musings about what could've caused the wound on Sam's palm.

It was good, imagining Sam again, and _focusing_ on the little details. The way his mouth curved when he smiled, and the precise spot where his dimples appeared. The mole just to the side of his nose, and the sharp edge of his jaw when he tilted his head. Gabriel had thought of them at the beginning so he wouldn't forget, but time had thrown a haze over Sam that only talking through his features could lift.

"You really found your soulmate, huh?"

Gabriel cracked open an eye to look at Meg, who for some reason had chosen to stay and listen to the back and forth.

"You sound very awed. Do you not believe in them?"

To his surprise, Meg shook her head.

"I do. It's just…no one can really recall a face they've only seen once in such detail," she mused, dark fingernails rapping against the table. "The sketch Garth has going there could be a fucking mugshot."

"Lemme see," Gabriel said, leaning forward as a nervousness jolted his stomach. It was one thing to think of Sam, and yet another to potentially see his face on paper.

Sam looked back at him, the image so accurate that Gabriel couldn't help but gape. It was just a simple graphite drawing, but all of the features were in the right place, and it _looked like him_.

"He's got an interesting face," Garth said, practically vibrating out of his seat with caffeine and excitement. "And I don't mean that in a bad way. His face is atypical in a good way, and it works in his favor. Jeez, I know at least one professor that would want to snag him for a live modeling session."

"Who's modeling?"

"Sam," Meg replied as Balthazar strolled in, his suit jacket tossed over his shoulder to properly show off his deep V neck shirt.

"Sam the soulmate? Oh, he _is_ a hottie," Balthazar said, leaning over Gabriel's shoulder to study the portrait. "You struck gold there, Gabe. Can't say I recognize him though."

"Me either, and you know how I am with people I serve," Meg said apologetically.

Gabriel sighed and nodded in understanding. Meg never forgot a face she served at the bar, and Balthazar had an unusually sharp memory for faces. Neither of them recognizing Sam didn't mean much since California was a big place, but it solidified his theory that Sam neither ventured often into nightlife nor lived in the immediate area around the coffee shop.

"Lucifer wants to see you when you've finished," Balthazar said, eyes flicking to Garth in silent question.

"Yup, it's all done. This is probably the best composite I've made," Garth admitted, unclipping the sheet of paper from the clipboard.

"It's amazing. You did great, trust me," Gabriel said, accepting the portrait eagerly.

When Gabriel returned to Lucifer's office, both his brothers were seated and studiously avoiding each other's gazes. However, the tense energy from before was gone, and a subtle glance at both revealed no injuries had been incurred. If anything, they looked tired behind their mutual, carefully guarded faces.

"Gabe! How'd it go?" Lucifer asked, standing to greet him.

"Pretty good. Have a look," Gabriel said slyly as he handed the sheet over.

Not even Michael could resist craning his neck, and then standing to look at the portrait that Lucifer exclaimed over.

"He looks…real," he said grudgingly, to which Lucifer lightly flicked his ear.

"That's because he _is_. Look, you can't deny he's cute," he insisted, ignoring the dark look Michael shot him as he grinned down at Sam. It was a devious smile laced with triumph, surprisingly free of the darker edge that always plagued it.

"He's acceptably attractive. Not my type though."

"It's been so long since you've been with someone, I'm surprised you even remember what your type is."

Gabriel relaxed fully as Michael merely sneered back at Lucifer. Whatever they'd spoken of (he couldn't be sure if their mother had been discussed or not), it'd gone as well as it could've, and it appeared that his two elder brothers were operating under a truce.

It happened sometimes; usually, when Michael tried to wrangle Lucifer into some sort of family affair, he'd normally steer clear of. Sometimes Gabriel would force them to play nice if they were being especially hardheaded, and sometimes they both softened at the same time when they got tired of hating one another so intensely. They'd hash out a deal, and agree to it because even Lucifer didn't break his word lightly. He could twist things to his advantage and find loopholes within loopholes, but if he said he would do something, he would.

"I'm still not wholly convinced about all this soulmate business, but I can acknowledge the fact that Sam is not a figment of your imagination. Lucifer will take care of you. I'll be checking in periodically to make sure you haven't died, but I won't push you to go back to…work that doesn't satisfy you," Michael said, changing subjects with an uncomfortable look on his face.

No doubt making those concessions pained him, but Lucifer's face suggested that it was all part of the conditions of the deal they'd come to. Gabriel kept his own poker face strong because he didn't want to fuck up the golden deal they'd worked out in his absence.

_What the hell had Lucifer said to make Michael so amendable?_

"Sounds good. What're you going to do with Sam?" Gabriel asked.

"Not sure," Lucifer said, chewing his lip, "It was a long shot, but now that it's worked, I need to evaluate the options."

"Typical of you to not have a plan."

"I always have a plan, Mikey! I just need to think it through now that I have an extra card in the deck," Lucifer whined before looking back down at the portrait.

"The most ideal route would be to run it through a database, but I don't have any contacts in law enforcement, and those would take _months_ to cultivate," Lucifer sighed with a dramatic eye roll. "Perhaps I can use the internet to our advantage…"

"Not yet."

The words slipped out before Gabriel was even consciously aware of them. Lucifer and Michael turned to look at him, and he struggled to word the thought process crowding his head alongside the hangover headache.

"It's just…I'm not exactly in the best position right now. I just drank the last week away, for God's sake. And I don't regret that, but I think I need have my shit 100% together before I look for Sam properly," he said, dragging his thumbnail over his index finger in a nervous habit he couldn't consciously remember having employed recently.

_We've all been wearing our masks too tightly._

"I see," Michael said, and it seemed he did judging by the trace of pride in his tone. "You wish to be the best version of yourself before you meet this Sam. It's good you aren't rushing into this at a breakneck speed like Lucifer."

"Breakneck gets me where I need to be the fastest," Lucifer said offhandedly before fixing shrewd eyes on him.

"Are you sure? From what you've told me of Sam, I don't think he'd mind the fact that you're currently working stuff out."

"Which is all the more reason why I have to do it this way," Gabriel said, eyes drifting to the portrait. Sam wore a small smile on his face, the jaded and fatigued air that had clung to him not as apparent on paper. "He deserves better. So, I'll become better, and when I am, nothing in the world will stop me from finding him."

The quiet fire burning in his chest was a far cry from the wildfires that had powered him in his past, but Gabriel could be patient. He'd turned 29 a few weeks ago, and the big old three-zero didn't scare him nearly as much as it had when he was in college. Gabriel was still young and now knew how the world could sneak up on him and chain him up if he wasn't careful.

So, he'd be careful, and build himself right back up. No headlong dashes into scouring California for Sam yet. Gabriel would find _himself_ first, and then find Sam, because how could he love someone if he didn't at least like himself?

"Perhaps I don't have to worry as much as I initially feared," Michael murmured, checking the time on his watch. "Still, I don't regret the early drive here. I've learned some interesting things today."

His eyes landed on Lucifer, who looked deep in thought at Gabriel's words and only hummed initially at Michael.

"Interesting. Yeah," he said slowly, setting the portrait down on his desk before morphing into his dramatic, gesticulating persona. "I'll show you out, Mike! I appreciate you coming out here, even if it was completely unnecessary and you've no doubt thrown the sinful atmosphere of Brimstone off with your saintly aura."

Gabriel flopped back onto the futon, tired now that everything had been properly worked out. It'd be a wild start to the morning, but he had to sleep off this hangover if he was going to be of any use later.

"Gabe?"

He raised his head blearily focusing on his brothers. One in white, one in black; forever determined to oppose each other in everything imaginable.

But, for a moment, standing in the doorway, they looked as if they were on equal footing. It was a fanciful thought, but Gabriel entertained it nonetheless as Lucifer cocked his head.

"I think you just have to find _you_ before you find Sam. It's not about being the best version of you; it's just about finding who you lost a while back. He was a pretty cool guy."

Gabriel blinked at Lucifer, unsure if he was hearing things correctly. Did Lucifer just say he'd been _cool_?

"Well, that's all," he said a moment later, voice light and airy as if he hadn't just skewed Gabriel's entire view of himself with a handful of words. "Mikey, please untwist your face. You know I didn't mean to undermine what you said earlier about being a better version of thyself."

"That's exactly what you did."

"Oh honestly, Michael…"

Their voices drifted off down the hall, lost to the labyrinth of Brimstone's back corridors.

Maybe Lucifer had a point. Gabriel had more than a few issues back in the day, but there was no doubt that he had been one hell of a character. He'd been funny, carefree; clever enough come up with schemes that always worked and bold enough to execute those schemes in the first place. Broken down into their base forms, none of those traits were inherently bad.

_They just need a bit of work. Lucifer might be onto something…_

The quiet seized Gabriel in a soft embrace, and it didn't take too long for him to be lulled to sleep by the quiet hum of the lights and the steady hush of air from the vent overhead.

He dreamed of Sam like he usually did these days, and when he woke, he didn't embark on a seventh night of drinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabe's figuring himself out now (or is trying to if his brothers will quit bantering long enough to let him.) Also, I think I have a thing for writing nightclubs because this is quickly becoming a personal writing trope for me? Except now Lucifer's the one that's running things, which poses all sorts of questions since I know the show Lucifer has the same concept…talk about just having important realizations lol. But the next chapter will feature the beginning process of Sam and Gabe reuniting so stay tuned!


	6. Hallowed Grounds

**Chapter 6: Hallowed Grounds**

Heat was something Sam wasn't wholly unfamiliar with. He was used to the still, arid heat that hovered over Kansas in the deep summer months; the kind that baked asphalt dry and bled all the color from the grass. Sam liked waiting for the freak thunderstorms that would form, the roiling purple clouds visibly moving down far off mountains to bring lightning and a downpouring of rain so intense Mary made them wait for the worst of it to fall before she let them run around a bit in the driveway.

This heat wasn't quite the same. The heatwave that had seized the area for the past week was a beast, strangling the very air and keeping everyone wary of heatstroke and hot cars. There was no natural relief in sight, and to top it all off, their AC had broken sometime very early last night. Sam had woken tangled in sweaty sheets and had been positive he was suffocating from the sudden heat.

"I'm going to kill someone."

Sam rolled his head over to look at Dean, who was standing with his head stuck out one of the living room windows and arms braced on the windmill. Sweat coated his bare back in a sheen Sam could, unfortunately, relate too, but at least the heat hadn't turned him murderous yet. His spot on the hardwood floor was good for something.

"There's no wind. Pull your head back inside before you do something foolish like saying that louder," Sam drawled, turning his head to return it to the blank gaze he'd had fixed on the ceiling for the past…hour. An hour and a half maybe; Sam couldn't be sure with the way the heat stretched time out like molasses.

Dean let out an indescribable sound of anger from deep within his throat. A second later, the window was slammed shut, and a longer second later, the old radio Dean had brought with him from home began to blare out some sort of rock Sam was too heat-tired to put a name to.

"Just call Cas," Sam said for the fiftieth time. Cas was at work and lived in a very nice, modern building that he was sure still had AC. They had exchanged keys properly about a month ago, but Dean had somehow misplaced his and was too embarrassed to call Cas about it. Sam wasn't surprised, as those two hit every relationship milestone backward and somehow came out on the other side fine.

"I'm not fucking doing that! I know it's around here somewhere…"

Sam sighed as his brother began to tear the apartment up again, rolling over to lay on his stomach when he'd sucked the last of the chill from the section of the floor he'd been laying on. Rotation was key with this strategy he'd opted for.

_I wonder how Gabriel's keeping cool._

Not for the first time, Sam's mind wandered to his lost soulmate. It was his way of coping while he waited patiently, keeping his recollection of the man fresh for when they reunited. Knowing he drank sweet coffee and hated his boss weren't practical clues, but it was all he had of Gabriel. He'd written a list out long ago of what he could recall of Gabriel, just so he wouldn't forget.

He'd exhausted all avenues of tracking Gabriel down months back. Sam just didn't know enough about Gabriel to track him down via the Internet. The one solid piece of information he had was that the man worked, or _had_ worked at Leviathan Inc. However, that lead had gone stale when he could find no record of Gabriel working there. It was, as Cas put it, "a ridiculously giant corporation," and they'd had a surge of people leave towards the end of the year. Sam couldn't be 100% sure, but some instinct told him that Gabriel had been one of them, and while he hoped for the man's mental health that he _had_ been one of them, it made finding him that much harder.

So, after doing all he could, and receiving enlightening advice from his mother, Sam had ceded this particular round to the universe and decided to get on with his life as best as he could.

It was a common theme in the folktales that spoke of this type of soulmates. There was the one that was the seeker, and the one that could do nothing but wait for whatever cosmic reason. All of Cas's research had confirmed this, which had been a hard pill to swallow at the beginning for Sam. He didn't want to _wait_ until Gabriel found him; he wanted to go out in the world and find him for himself.

Dean had been the one to talk sense into him in the end and quit the futile search. After skimming over all the notes "the two nerds" had made, he'd told him he'd just have to suck it up and wait, and that in the meantime they'd just have brotherly fun before all of Sam's time was sucked up by Gabriel when they eventually reunited.

Visiting his mother had reminded him to set aside the need to be proactive in place of being patient. She always managed to comfort him, and by the time he'd come back from Kansas, he was sure that, at least on his end, he was ready for a reunion.

A small smile tugged on Sam's face. Hope was a featherlight feeling in his chest, but his faith had grown over the months. Not even witnessing Dean and Cas' relationship bloom could knock it down.

"Dammit, where the hell did it go?"

Sam snorted as he heard Dean throw open the medicine cabinet in the bathroom (the mirror always sounded close to breaking every time he did that), before rolling onto his side. He'd been putting off reaching for his phone ever since he'd gotten onto the floor, but this was getting ridiculous.

_Sam: Hey Cas, I'm going to snitch on Dean because I'm tired of being hot._

The reply came a few minutes later, and after checking the time, Sam determined Cas must be on his lunch break.

_Cas: What did Dean do? And you're hot…?_

_Sam: AC broke. Dean lost your key, so we're baking in what feels like hell. He doesn't want to call cause he thinks you'll be angry._

_Cas: I see. He does remember we're soulmates, right?_

Sam snickered, the text fitting his mental rendition of Cas' voice to a tee. The soulmate bomb dropped shortly after Cas had helped Sam realized Gabriel was _his_ soulmate, had gone about as well as it could've with Dean in the equation. There had been one attempted binge-drinking session (Dean), one broken chair (Cas), three very angsty calls home to their mom (two from Dean, one from Sam), and then one very passionate lovemaking session that Sam had spent swimming in the neighboring complex's pool because fences were nothing to his height and there was no way he was sticking around for _that_.

_Sam: I think the heat might've made him forget. Please call him so I can stop melting into the floor._

_Cas: Will do. If your AC isn't fixed today, I'll make up the spare for you._

Sam blinked at the text. Cas had offered so willingly and without hesitation, but after thinking about it for a few moments, Sam smiled. Dean really had found the right person for him.

" _Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down…"_

"Sam, I fucking hate you!"

The ringtone was a joke after Dean had unconsciously quoted the Rick Astley song in one of his more maudlin moments with Cas, and no matter how many times he switched it to something else, Sam always managed to be sneaky enough to switch it back.

"Serves you right," he muttered as he listened to Dean answer and immediately get drawn up in a cycle of "hey angel…no angel…yes, angel..." that featured Dean descending into deeper levels of bashfulness. No doubt Cas was straightening out any misconceptions, and more importantly, guaranteeing them a night of cool comfort at his place.

Except Sam couldn't go to Cas' yet. The sudden desire to _move_ struck him, cutting through the sluggish feeling that had kept him pinned to the floor. Perhaps it was some flight of fancy, fueled by the frustration the heat naturally stoked. After all, he didn't work today, and school was still comfortably far off in his rearview mirror. July was great like that.

He groaned as he sat up, feeling tired just from the simple motion before swaying to his feet. Sam wasn't sure where he was going to go, but anywhere would be good. Preferably somewhere with AC after he walked off the sudden urge his legs had to roam around.

"Cas scares me sometimes."

Sam looked over his shoulder to see Dean walking back into the living room with a confused frown on his face, phone in hand.

"He somehow read my mind and knew I'd lost the key. Is that a soulmate thing?" Dean asked sincerely, and Sam had to bite his tongue so he didn't bust out laughing.

"Maybe. Some couple's instincts are stronger than others," he replied nonchalantly. Out of unspoken accord, he and Cas had decided their frequent communications (mainly Sam snitching on Dean with a smattering of academic talk) would remain secret for the time being.

"Well, he's coming over. Taking the rest of the day off because I guess even accountants get bored during the summer."

"You know you love his nerdy job."

Dean flushed, the color even more apparent shirtless as it traveled down his neck. "I do not! Not like that!"

"Uh-huh. I'm going to walk around the block and buy ice cream for myself, and by the time I come back, you should be done greeting Cas with your hornier methods."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Sam did exactly as he said he would. Outside, the sun was merciless, but he bought two ice creams bars (one chocolate crunch and one strawberry crunch) and ate them languidly on a bench with very little in the way of shade. He got some lingering looks due to the skimpy muscle tee he'd decided to throw on, but no one approached him. Sam's bitch face must've been made stronger by the heat because he always had to fend off more people than usual the summer.

He appreciated the rare peace today. Yes, it was hot as hell, and not the most comfortable length he'd gone to in order to give Dean and Cas some time alone, but Sam was used to indulging them.

_Is Gabriel a chocolate crunch or strawberry kind of guy?_

Sam paused in his eating, mulling over the question before deciding that Gabriel would no doubt have stolen one of his ice cream bars after eating his own, and he'd go for the chocolate one.

He had absolutely no base of knowledge when it came to thinking of Gabriel like this, but Sam did it anyway. It'd be fun to see what he'd gotten right or wrong when they finally met.

When he returned, Cas was sitting on the kitchen counter, his work shirt unbuttoned over his undershirt and a scowl on his face. Sam knew it was because of the heat though, and not because he'd gotten into a tiff with Dean. One look at Dean slumped on the couch told him that Cas had more than taken care of all the pent-up energy that had driven his brother to call out murder threats to the street.

"Hello, Sam. It really is hot in here," he said, to which Sam nodded and opened the freezer so he could stick his face in for some relief.

"I'm about to head right back out. It's awful," Sam said as he shut the door.

"Where to?"

"Not sure. Anywhere besides this stuffy apartment," he admitted, running a hand through his hair. It was annoying him enough that he debated just cutting it all off for a brief moment before immediately tossing the idea aside.

"Make sure to take some water with you. Dean will kill you if you get heatstroke."

"Oh, I'm not killing anyone anymore," Dean's voice said dreamily from the living room, to which Sam wrinkled his nose.

" _Gross_. You're more liable to kill me than Dean is at this point," Sam grumbled as Cas blushed.

He did as he was told though. Cas and Mary had bonded on a level that meant they were no doubt communicating behind his back. She always complained they didn't call enough, so Sam wasn't surprised she'd implanted some motherly notions into Cas' mind that he'd carried back from Kansas.

Sam went to grab his bag, which he hadn't the first time and took the opportunity to make sure Dean knew he was going out.

"We'll just meet back up at Cas'," Dean grunted, rolling over onto his side as his face darkened, "I hate the West Coast."

"I know."

The sun was as hot as it had been ten minutes ago. Sam sighed, unsure what he'd been expecting (a freak thunderstorm to break the heat?) before setting out for nowhere in particular.

The beginning of the school year hadn't been good for him. Law school was tough, and the situation with his roommates hadn't helped matters. The two of them hadn't mentioned going into the lease the fact that they were weed dealers and rather high-profile ones at that. Sam and Kevin had known that they were potheads, but they'd quickly realized that was putting it lightly when Sam got tired of the wheezy sound the living room vent made and opened it to find bags upon bags of weed hidden inside.

It had been a coincidence that on the same night, their roommates had been involved in a deal that went sideways and came back pissed and ridiculously drunk. In hindsight, it hadn't been the best idea to confront them, but both he and Kevin were too indignant at the fact that there was a _mountain_ of weed in their apartment to go about things in a smarter fashion. The living room vent hadn't been the only place they'd stashed the stuff.

Sensing the tide was turning, their roommates had decided that they had to cover their tracks, and their cover involved the use of a gun Sam had no idea they'd even owned. The only reason why the first shot hadn't gotten Sam in the chest was because they were so _drunk_ , but Sam hadn't let them get a second off.

Too bad the other roommate had been waiting to use his pocketknife.

Sam idly rubbed the scar on his palm. He didn't regret protecting Kevin. He'd been a good friend and roommate; still was, even if he was back in Seattle. He just wished he'd taken control of the situation earlier on so that Kevin hadn't had to leave.

_He might've left anyway. It was a pretty fucked up night._

Sweat trickled down the nape of Sam's neck as he wandered, ducking into stores periodically to snatch a few minutes of cool air before making his way out. His usual places to hang out, like the library or the coffee shop, weren't calling out to him today, so Sam just walked.

The sun slowly began its descent towards the horizon, the shadows stretching before Sam's feet. He was vaguely aware that he'd spent a lot of time walking, and that his water had long run out, which was a dangerous thing, but he was too far gone in his head to care. The feeling that had driven him out of the apartment was tugging at him now, so subtly that if he hadn't just about zoned out of his surroundings, he wouldn't have noticed it.

Sam was more sensitive than most, so he noticed it, and more so, followed it. When it came to matters like this, he was more reckless than even Dean, who prided himself on his idiotic habit of "following his gut" and thinking things through later. Since it was the same logic that had spurred him to come all the way out to California, Sam didn't judge his brother for it, but there were times when one had to use their brain instead of their mysterious intestinal instinct.

This wasn't one of those thinking times. In fact, Sam didn't even think it was gut instinct driving him forward. It was something deeper than that, indescribable, and impossible to pin down with a description.

He wasn't surprised when he came to a stop in front of the coffee shop he'd originally met Gabriel in. The feeling dissipated as soon as he hit the window front, and Sam stood stock still for a moment, simply taking in the sight of the table they'd sat at from the sidewalk.

Sam had only been back three times. The first was the day after that meeting, in the vain hope he'd catch Gabriel again, but he hadn't. The second was in December when he'd passed by while Christmas shopping and treated himself to a cup of coffee too sweet for his usual tastes. Today was the third time, but as he gazed at the empty table, he knew it wouldn't be the charm.

_I can believe that. But I'm not scared of you._

So many people were intimidated by his size, but Gabriel hadn't been. He must've looked stupid crammed into the small space and spindly chair, but Gabriel had sat down in front of him anyway with his breakfast and a smile that he hadn't hidden with a mask until just before he'd left.

He'd never learned the name of the place. Something about putting a name to the space felt odd to Sam, like turning on the lights in a haunted house. There was something sacred in the anonymity, like not knowing would somehow better preserve the memory of Gabriel.

Still, it was strange to not know; Sam was completely aware of that. He couldn't just call it "the coffeeshop" in his head forever.

Sam looked up at the sign and couldn't help but snort at the tiny red letters nearly lost to the grander buildings surrounding it.

_HALLOWED GROUNDS: Homemade Pastries and Coffee_

Knowing the name didn't ease the hollow space in his chest when he looked at the empty table, but Sam filed it away in his memory anyway as he stepped inside.

The blast of cool air was a blessing in the largely empty shop. There was something bereft about the lack of activity, but it made service quick. He once again ordered a frothy frappuccino too sweet for himself and tentatively sat down at what he considered to be "their" table.

Outside, the stream of people had lessened. It was the dead time of a summer afternoon, just before the day cooled down enough to draw people out into what would eventually turn into a more manageable night. Sam looked out at night for a while before turning to face the empty seat before him.

_Take care, kiddo. Don't let people get you down._

He stayed inside long enough for his cup to condense and make a ring on the table and for the sun to sink behind the buildings. The frustration at not being able to find Gabriel despite how much he wanted rose in his throat, ebbing only to be replaced by loneliness.

Sam wanted what Dean and Cas had, and in a way, he was jealous of them. Dean had stumbled upon his soulmate, Cas quite literally falling into his lap, and it irked Sam to no end. He'd always been a believer, but when it came to his soulmate, he had to work twice as hard and somehow had to relocate him to get his happy ending.

Sam sighed before deciding that it was time to leave. Hallowed Grounds wasn't making him feel any better, and he had to pack a better bag if he was going to be at Cas' place tonight. Dean always managed to grab clothes that didn't match whatsoever, which was a feat considering Sam's wardrobe was about as practical and efficient as it got.

"…all I'm saying is that you should lighten up Mikey! Take a vacation for once in your goddamn life, or better yet, quit your stupid desk job like Gabe did."

It was the name that made Sam pause. That, and the mention of a desk job. He didn't think the faint thrill running up his spine could be a coincidence either.

_Maybe I should stay for one more minute._

He looked up to see two men striding through the door. The one leading was wearing a suit (a suit _just like_ Gabriel had worn) and appeared largely unaffected by both the heat and the quaint interior. His hair was dark and brushed back, eyes only vaguely interested in his surroundings and face pinched as his companion spoke. A quintessential businessman entertaining someone in an endeavor he thought was a waste of time.

"Now, Gabe said that _this_ was the place they met," the other man, fair and dressed in tight, dark clothing said. He was the opposite of the businessman in many ways, the most notable being his excitement levels. A piece of paper fluttered in his hand as he spread his arms.

"Morning rush, super crowded, but he said it was a table by the window-"

Sam's stomach somehow swooped and soared all at once as the man whirled around dramatically only to stop partly in his spin and point right his way.

The man's face was almost comedic as he dropped his arm, eyes wide and mouth agape at the sight of Sam sitting at the table ( _the same table he and Gabriel had met at_ ). Sam didn't think his expression was any less shocked because there was _no way_ that the man could be talking about anyone but him and Gabriel.

Neither of the men was Gabriel, but Sam somehow felt a sense of rightness (beneath the slow shock setting in) at how things were playing out.

Sam blinked as the businessman in the impeccable suit (Mikey?) looked back and forth between them before snatching the paper out of the frozen man's hand and peering at it intently. He then looked up sharply at him, his face opening up in a way that reminded Sam of how Gabriel had looked before he'd adjusted his face to leave for work.

"You know what Luce," "Mikey" said slowly, green eyes wide as he lowered the paper, "I take back everything I said on the way here. I believe you."

That kicked the other man, "Luce", into action. He was speed personified, taking the piece of paper and sliding into the seat opposite Sam in a split second, nearly knocking the chair over in the process.

"You were about to leave, weren't you?" he asked, blue eyes wide and smudged with old makeup Sam didn't think he was aware he had on.

"Yeah," Sam managed to croak out, trying to figure out who exactly this person was, and how they knew Gabriel because they had to know him if they were here and so obviously prepared to meet him.

"We got here just in time then," "Luce" said, smiling in a way that didn't suit his dark appearance before pure excitement spurred him onward, words spilling from his mouth in a rush that left Sam reeling.

"This is going to sound strange, but I've been looking all over for you, Sam. It's nice to finally find my brother's soulmate."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think this constitutes as a plot twist, but more of a pleasant surprise? I toyed with the idea of having Sam and Gabriel find each other on their own, but then I quickly realized if I was already going to play fast and loose with the concept of soulmates, I might as well go the full mile.


	7. The Garden

**Chapter 7: The Garden**

Gabriel started spending more time at Brimstone in between random expeditions to places he hadn't been to since he'd been hired at Leviathan Inc. One day he'd go to a museum, the next he'd walk on the beach barefoot with his shirt off, soaking up more sun in one afternoon than he had in one week at his old job. Sometimes he drove out to some random spot and puttered around, soaking up the atmosphere and avoiding tall corporate buildings as he roamed with no destination in mind.

However, no matter how far he ventured, he always came back to Brimstone and made a point of staying within California borders. It didn't sit right with Gabriel to leave the state when he knew Sam was within it somewhere, even if it would just be a temporary trip.

"You should just move in," Lucifer said one day when they were leaning on the balcony one April morning and watching the cleaning crew work on the dancefloor below. "You sleep here most nights, and I know you hate your apartment. So, just stay here until you find a new apartment you like."

It was hard to argue with Lucifer when he was right. The minimalistic apartment he'd been so proud of a few years ago now felt like an empty mausoleum; a hollow remnant of his time living someone else's life. Gabriel had started avoiding it like the plague, put off by the blank, white expanses, and reflective metals that showed a person amid change. The Gabriel those metals used to reflect-the one that wore suits and brought paperwork home-was dead and gone.

He sold off what he could, got rid of the rest, and lugged what was left to be stored in Brimstone's basement or to be placed in the spare room upstairs in the loft. Lucifer technically lived in the loft but kept such odd hours due to the business and the other ventures he undertook that Gabriel tended to have the place to himself much of the time. It didn't help that Lucifer had no concept of keeping a kitchen or doing laundry, so the dynamic switched to something like Gabriel ruling over the loft with Lucifer ducking in now and then like a particularly erratic roommate despite how very opposite the situation was.

It took some getting used to living with Lucifer once again (he wasn't as hellishly obnoxious as Gabriel remembered him being in their teen years, thank God), but besides that, Gabriel got a semblance of a routine down. Some nights he'd shadow Lucifer, refraining from joining in the festivities as he watched how his brother used his presence to bolster Brimstone's theme. That was Lucifer's main role, and the "fun one" as he put it, but his brother also did a lot behind the scenes. Lucifer had two distinct sides when he worked and watching him flip between entertaining patrons and dealing with technical matters like setting up the theme for the night and liquor shortages was dizzying.

But it was also thrilling in a way Gabriel couldn't explain. After wearing stifling business attire and sitting at a desk day in and day out for so long, Brimstone was a breath of fresh air. It was a wholly new chapter in Gabriel's life; one that he enjoyed more and more as the weeks slipped by.

Michael dropped by occasionally, as he'd promised. He called more often than not, and Gabriel found himself reconnecting with his brother in a way he'd long forgotten how to. Now that he was on the outside of the corporate business world looking in, his perspective was different and colored the tone of the conversations he had with Michael. His brother couldn't understand how he enjoyed learning the ropes of the nightclub business more than his old job, but Gabriel was doing his best to talk him around to it.

He thought it was working to a degree. Michael didn't sneer so much when he dropped by for visits and hadn't eviscerated his much tinier living arrangement in the loft. He also got along marginally better with Lucifer, but that wasn't saying much. They still got at each other's throats if Gabriel left them alone for too long.

But something was different tonight.

Gabriel spotted Michael easily. Even at peak party hour, he could make out his brother slipping through the fringes of the crowd, still dressed in a work suit. Brimstone's attire was somewhere between formal and feral, hinging mostly on whatever Lucifer decided it would be, so while Michael didn't completely stand out for his clothes, he stood out for his posture. His shoulders were stiff and hunched, and he ignored everyone that approached him.

Michael had never come while Brimstone was open. He usually came after they closed, or sometimes just before they opened, slipping out a side exit like the nightclub was his dirty little secret. Gabriel watched as he ascended the stairs and disappeared with a small frown on his face.

"Go see what he wants."

Lucifer materialized by his side with a wine glass in hand and a blank expression completely different from the vivacious host he'd been playing so far tonight. Tonight, Brimstone had been rented out for a pretty penny by an art collector wanting to celebrate with Renaissance style, and Lucifer had more than delivered. With his billowing cloak, thin sword, and crooked crown of silver thorns, he looked every bit like the Devil incarnate.

But beneath the seamless, cold as ice exterior, Gabriel could see he was curious and more than a little concerned about Michael's out of character visit.

"Yes, your highness," he said with a low bow that made his billowy shirt gape, and Lucifer scoffed before taking a sip of his wine.

"Don't bow to me, little brother. Who untied those laces anyway?" he asked suspiciously as Gabriel straightened and tugged at his floppy collar.

"Meg. She says the more debauched I look; the less people will want to approach me."

Lucifer snorted, nearly inhaling his wine before hurriedly clearing his throat and wiping a finger under his eye.

"Oh, _Meg_. In this sort of stuffy party, she's right," Lucifer sighed, reaching over to ruffle his hair, "Go make sure Michael isn't robbing us blind."

"Of what? Costume props- _ouch_!"

Gabriel rubbed his assaulted ear as he walked off, muttering and scowling enough to clear a path as he did his best to ascertain where Michael went.

The back halls were quiet upstairs, the orchestral music just a low thrum of sound that vibrated through his bones. All of the doors up here were locked beyond the doors that funneled to emergency exits, so Gabriel knew he wasn't in any of these.

He paused at an intersection, putting himself in Michael's shoes for a moment. Where could he have gone?

_Michael hasn't been very many places in Brimstone. He probably climbed the stairs to avoid the crowds with the intention of getting back down to the ground floor. Lucifer's office maybe?_

Gabriel went, and upon discovering only Balthazar hunched over a pile of foreboding paperwork Lucifer had probably shucked onto him so he could play king for the night, was rendered thoroughly stumped as to where Michael could have gone.

"Luci's going to be so mad," Gabriel muttered with a fearful shudder as he puttered down the hall.

Lucifer always made a point of having someone accompany Michael, and while he knew his brother wasn't going to rob them or "gather intel for a corporate enemy" (really, Lucifer could be _way_ too paranoid sometimes), Gabriel felt uneasy at the thought of Michael wandering around alone somewhere in Brimstone. It was like a gazelle walking into a lion's den if gazelles could be jaded and bitter and wear designer suits.

Gabriel had just decided to try the security booth and see if they could spot Michael on the cameras (hopefully not scarred for life by some obscure feature of Brimstone) when the door to the garden caught his eye. It wasn't open very far; just enough that the lock hadn't clicked in the door jamb, but Gabriel was positive he'd been the last one in there, and he always shut it properly.

On a whim, Gabriel entered and caught of glimpse of Michael's dark suit through the foliage. He had wound his way deep into the garden, probably drawn by the running water of the fountain in the center.

"So you've discovered the Garden of Eden."

Michael looked up sharply as Gabriel emerged in the little strip of space that ran around the fountain. The garden was lit by scattered lamps here and there, but here, the only light came from the blue glow of the LED lights of the fountain. It made Michael look like a ghost.

"Is that what he calls this?" Michael asked with a curt tone after he recovered from his shock.

Gabriel studied his brother. His tie knot was loosened, and his hair was windswept as if he'd driven here with the windows rolled down. At first glance, these details were unremarkable due to his brother's ability to mask them with his domineering presence, but Gabriel knew better. They were cracks in his carefully built mask; the signs of internal conflict.

_What could've put Michael in this state?_

"If it helps, I don't call it that, but everything has to be on-brand for Luci," Gabriel said, striving for an easy-going approach as he sat down, leaving a few feet of space between them. "And he _is_ his own brand at this point."

"That he is," Michael muttered, brow darkening the shadow cast over his eyes as he frowned in thought. "Do you have any idea why he wants to continue this endeavor?"

"Everyone expected him to run it into the ground. People just thought it'd be a flight of fancy during his break from music, but you know how Luci is," Gabriel chuckled, "Always obstinate and contradictory. So, he made it succeed. And I think he really does enjoy it, even if he plans on going back into music."

"He said that?" Michael asked, and Gabriel nodded.

It was something Lucifer had only spoken about in abstract terms up until recently. Gabriel learned that his brother's moments of prolonged stillness and vague mutterings were not signs of impending insanity, but rather a return to composing; something he hadn't done since his last album was released over three years ago.

Now, Lucifer was making plans to reenter the music industry, sidelining his notions for a second night club to produce an album his now much larger fanbase was clamoring for. For whatever reason, his absence had only created more stir and interest in the mythic persona he'd crafted as a musician instead of pushing him into obscurity. The buzz had Balthazar practically vibrating in excitement 24/7, and it wasn't uncommon to see him talking with Lucifer about this or that and trying to arrange for the first in what would be a long string of studio visits.

"And what of Brimstone?"

Gabriel shrugged, looking down at the costume jewelry that decorated his hands. They glittered with blue light from the fountain.

"He…wants me to take over," he admitted, revealing what Lucifer told him only just last week, "Run things in his stead while he's out touring and stuff."

"And _stuff_ ," Michael echoed incredulously, "Is that what you want?"

_What I want._

It was a question Gabriel had been grappling with ever since he'd left his old job in tandem with enjoying his newfound freedom. The sudden loss of consistent responsibility had left a hole in his life, and while Gabriel knew he was the better for it, the hole was still there, waiting to be filled with something different. Gabriel could not be idle for long; it went against every fiber of his being.

The knowledge that Sam was out there helped ease his worries. A soulmate was a very large want for a lot of people, and Gabriel knew he was extremely lucky to have the knowledge that his was waiting for him somewhere out there, with a face and name as tangible as the garden around him. It hurt, delaying his happiness, but Gabriel couldn't consciously allow himself to find Sam without figuring himself out first. If that meant some sleepless nights and an aching heart, then so be it.

Taking over the ship for Lucifer wouldn't be a hardship. If anything, it appealed to him. He'd grown fond of the nightclub over the past weeks, but he wasn't _absolutely_ sure he wanted to, and now that he had a new lease on life, he didn't want to ruin it by being too hasty.

In college, such hesitation would've been unthinkable to him, but Gabriel had gone through a lot since his undergrad days. Now, he had a bit more patience and an awareness of the ways of the world that only came from experience.

"It was hard to want things at my old job. There was no time, or I deluded myself into thinking that I didn't _want_ anything more than what I already had," Gabriel started, skimming his fingertips through the cool water, "But now, my life is solely about figuring out _what_ I want. Besides Sam, I'm not 100% sure about the rest."

A breeze rustled the vegetation around them, the soft hushing sound solidifying the strange bubble that had fallen over them as they spoke. Gabriel couldn't remember the last time he'd had such a candid conversation with Michael that didn't involve his brother posturing with his pompous airs, but he wasn't going to let it stop anytime soon. They may have been talking about him and his problems, but he could sense something was stewing beneath the surface of Michael's nigh unbreachable defenses.

"Doesn't that scare you?"

Gabriel looked up from the water to see Michael staring off into the distance, slouched with his hands clasped in his lap.

Michael never slouched. Gabriel didn't think he'd done it since they were kids, and he certainly hadn't looked that confused in years. Michael made it a point to understand everything and anything possible because there was nothing worse than an uninformed businessman. His desperate need for control consumed him, but right now, there was a distinct lack of it, and the sight was disturbing. Whatever had happened must've been serious.

What could he say to Michael? His brother clearly needed the right words, or else he would teeter in a direction no one wanted to see him go to. Either he'd lock himself up tighter after this conversation and become an even worse stick up the ass or descend in a spiral that he'd refused to accept assistance in getting out of. Michael detested relying on support networks; he and Lucifer were barely exceptions.

_He needs the truth. Michael's always valued honesty._

"It terrified me at first," Gabriel said, "But now, not so much. Now that I'm not deluding myself into believing that my previous job was what I really wanted, I have real control. Maybe I don't know what I want exactly, but at least I now have control over where I'll end up. My fuck ups will be on me, but so will the good that comes from my decisions, and I think that outweighs the mistakes that I'll inevitably make."

Michael turned over his words before ducking his head, gazing at his still tightly clasped hands as if they would deliver him from the situation he'd gotten himself into.

"There's an assistant worker. His name is Adam. He's new to the business world, so…he doesn't act like all the others. He kept acting _nice_."

He hissed the word nice as if it was poison, and Gabriel knew that to Michael it might've well have been. Kind people scared Michael like normalcy scared Lucifer.

"For some reason, my personality didn't scare him off as it did with everyone else I've worked with," Michael continued, brow momentarily furrowing as if the very concept was an impossibility, "He just kept being nice, and acting as I was alright for him to deal with. He…grew on me, I suppose. I think it's hard to be consistently mean in the face of constant kindness."

Somewhere in the garden, a bird took flight. Gabriel saw its silhouette cut across the ferns and travel upward, but Michael didn't. His gaze was still on his hands.

"Now we work well together, and I get more work done because of him. But tonight, I ruined it."

"How so?" he asked. Perhaps Michael had been crueler than usual? He went through assistants like a dog went through chew toys, and Gabriel was well aware of how his brother's tongue sharpened the more a person confused him by being kind to him. He tried so hard to pretend as if their home life hadn't affected him detrimentally, but in reality, he was just as messed up as he and Lucifer.

Michael's mouth twisted as if the next words would pain him on the way out.

"I…asked him to be my _friend_. Can you believe that? I don't even know why I did it," he said, running an anxious hand through his hair, "I realized what I'd done, and came straight here for some godawful reason. I know I should've waited for some sort of reply from him, but I'd embarrassed myself enough with my inappropriate request."

_Friend?_

Gabriel blinked before a snicker escaped him, breaking the nighttime peace of their surroundings. The snicker quickly developing into a cackle that Michael frowned at, crossing his arms defensively.

"It's not funny!"

"Oh, but it _is_ ," Gabriel managed to gasp, slapping his hand on his brother's knee, "Christ, and you say _Lucifer's_ dramatic. Are you serious right now, Mikey?"

" _Yes_."

Gabriel sighed, still smiling as he rested a hand on Michael's shoulder. Now that he knew why Michael looked the way he did, he could see the vulnerability and child-like confusion plain as day. His brother had struggled with making friends even when they were children, and his adult life had only buried what few social skills he had managed to develop in his youth. The charms he used for business didn't equate to a sociable man.

"When did Adam become your assistant?"

"At the beginning of the year," Michael mumbled.

Gabriel whistled softly before jostling his brother's shoulder.

"Aw, c'mon Mike, it's _May_. If he's been nice to you this whole time, I daresay he'd like to be friends back. You should've waited to hear his response."

"I _know_ , but-I didn't want to hear if it was going to be a negative," Michael sighed, slouching even further. If he slouched anymore, he'd fold himself in half.

Gabriel knew it took his brother a lot of guts to admit that. Michael's self-righteousness led to him having a strong sense of confidence in his abilities, and that he'd succeed at whatever he set out to do. To admit that there was something that wasn't guaranteed to go in his favor was a step forward in a direction Gabriel didn't think he'd ever see his brother go down.

It wasn't abandoning his corporate job because of a soulmate or giving their family the middle finger at an annual dinner and declaring that music was his calling, but that didn't matter. This was Michael's defining moment.

"That doesn't matter. Either way, you've won tonight."

Michael looked up at him with an expression that said he was crazy, which Gabriel only waved off. Maybe later, with hindsight and a new perspective, he would understand.

Lucifer was waiting in his office when they emerged. His crown of thorns was in danger of falling completely off his head, which was tilted back to gaze at the ceiling. A goblet dangled from his fingers, completing the image of a slumbering king that had too much to drink.

However, Gabriel knew better and only rolled his eyes when Lucifer sat up fluidly. His brother bounced between extremes with nonchalant ease, all because he simply wanted to.

"Gabe, you've brought back our wayward brother! About time. Someone is waiting for him."

Michael stiffened by his side, and Lucifer continued with a wicked grin, eyes sparkling with mirth

"He was causing quite the scene outside. Said he knew you and that he was quite sure you were here, and that he just wants to talk. I let him in out of curiosity because he looks like such a sweet little thing-"

" _Lucifer_ ," Michael growled.

Lucifer only grinned harder, twirling his goblet expertly in a lax hand.

"He's at the bar with Meg. Have fun Mikey!" he called out to Michael's back, as he'd turned sharply on his heel t make his exit as soon as Lucifer had begun to speak.

"You tease him too much," Gabriel chided, to which Lucifer only shrugged and sighed happily.

"I tease him just the right amount. Now he's going to go be adorably surly with his new friend that I totally don't have bouncers watching, and the night will end with Mikey learning that he doesn't have to tear off _everyone's_ head, but only about 95% of them."

Gabriel simply shook his head before falling onto the futon, taking care to keep his feet off of the plush velvet. Lucifer always threw a hissy fit when anyone put their shoes on his furniture, never mind the fact that _he_ always did it whenever he could.

"You love to meddle with people's lives a little too much for it to be healthy."

"Well, what else are people around for?"

Gabriel snorted, and Lucifer sighed, growing uncharacteristically serious in the blink of an eye.

"Have you given thought to what I said?"

"I have," Gabriel replied evenly, eyes firmly fixed on the ceiling. Clarification wasn't needed; they both knew what he was talking about.

"And?"

"Still giving it thought," Gabriel said honestly, "But does it help if I say I'm leaning more towards yes than no?"

There was a pause before Lucifer shifted in his chair and asked, "What misgivings do you have?"

Gabriel spun one of the rings around his finger, focusing on the slide of metal around his knuckle as he pondered Lucifer's question.

_What_ are _my misgivings?_

Being too hasty was probably the biggest (and only) misgiving he had. Gabriel didn't want to jump feet first into something he wasn't totally sure about, but would that be such a bad thing after over five years of stagnation at Leviathan Inc.? Sam had been his initial drive to take the plunge and quit his job, but besides the mini random adventures he'd taken to fill up his free time, Gabriel hadn't really made a major decision for himself. Lucifer had been the one to suggest he move out, and the decision for him to stay with Lucifer and shadow him in Brimstone in the first place was handled more by his brothers than himself.

Perhaps he didn't need caution with this decision. Gabriel couldn't think of any other reason why he would refuse the offer. Brimstone would still be in Lucifer's name; he would just be the temporary captain that kept the ship in order while Lucifer was off reviving his music career. That didn't make the job any less important, but there was a safety net of sorts in the fact.

"I don't think you'd get it if I said I didn't want to be too hasty," Gabriel said, wanting to see what Lucifer had to say before making his final decision.

"Ha! You'd be right in that," he snorted, the thunk of the goblet echoing slightly in the otherwise quiet room, "I can see why it would be a valid concern for you, but it seems silly to me. I can think of at least ten other people I could have take charge of Brimstone, but I wouldn't trust any of them as much as I trust you."

Gabriel sat up slightly to see Lucifer had removed his crown to fiddle with it idly, the silver thorns catching the light with every slow rotation he put it through.

"They say working with family always ends in disaster, but we've hardly ever been a typical family," he murmured, eyes fixed on the thorns, "Trust. Such a fickle thing to have. We all have trust issues in our own ways."

Trust. Gabriel could see where his brother was coming from. However fickle and unpredictable Lucifer could be, his trust was hard to earn and even harder to keep. It was one of the few things he moved slowly with, and if Gabriel had it, then Lucifer must've been giving this offer thought for weeks; hell, maybe as early as the moment Gabriel had set foot into Brimstone for the first time.

It didn't influence his decision; Gabriel wouldn't let anyone affect this particular choice, but it solidified what he now knew he'd decided weeks back when he'd been dazzled by Brimstone in its entirety.

"Alright," Gabriel said before he could turn back and pretend for some stupid reason that he needed to think on it more. There was no point playing coy with this.

Lucifer looked up as he got to his feet, eyes sharp and calculating as Gabriel plopped down in the chair in front of him.

"I'll take over Brimstone in your stead. But when you open your second club, I'll run that permanently, because we both know you'll always want to come back here," he said, tipping his chin up slightly.

It was a secret thought he'd only turned over once or twice, but Gabriel's extensive time in the garden had given him ideas similar to Lucifer. The concept of a second nightclub was invigorating, and Gabriel knew someone would need to run it with a persona different from that of Lucifer's. His brother could pull it off no doubt, but Gabriel knew that for it to truly work (and to preserve Lucifer's already questionable sanity), a second person would need to be factored in.

If the second club was ever established, Gabriel wanted it to be himself. He hoped he wasn't being too bold or presumptuous with voicing his desire. One could never know how his tempest of a brother would react, and Lucifer had a nasty possessive streak.

However, it looked as if he'd come to all the right conclusions, because Lucifer's grin, after a moment of genuine surprise, was excited and bright.

"I'm perfectly amenable to that," he said, leaning forward to clasp his hands together as he began to contemplate it, " _More_ than perfect. Our family won't ever catch a glimpse of the old Gabriel once you sink your teeth into running this show."

Gabriel thought of the old self he'd left behind in his lonely apartment, remembered only by the blank walls and reflective metals. Then he noticed Lucifer's smirk and abandoned his maudlin thoughts for proactive words.

"You're not corrupting me to follow in your wily, hare-brained footsteps," he said flatly.

"Oh!" Lucifer exclaimed, clutching his chest. "You wound me brother dearest! I thought Michael was the no-fun brother!"

The mention of Michael set Lucifer spinning headfirst down another tangent before he got up, replacing his crown with one hand and dragging Gabriel with the other back out into the fray. Gabriel went with an indulgent smile as Lucifer jabbered about "inspecting Michael's new friend," content to simply live in the moment.

Maybe managing nightclubs wouldn't be what he'd settle on, but the thought of it was nowhere near the ball and chain of his old job, which was what mattered at the end of the day. As long as Gabriel was happy with what he did and could live with himself, it didn't matter if his decision seemed hasty. It just mattered that he _chose_ it for himself and could live with his decision.

Once Brimstone was his, Gabriel would search for Sam once more. They'd waited long enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter exploring the past! Now the story focuses on the present, leading up to their reunion and a bit afterwards. This chapter would've been up earlier if school didn't try to kick my ass the final weeks. But it's finally over (until I start summer term bleh), and I'll be getting back into posting more.


	8. The Night and Beyond

**Chapter 8: The Night and Beyond**

The men's names turned out to be Lucifer and Michael. Milton was their largely innocuous surname, but as Sam listened to them speak, he quickly learned that the lives of the Milton brothers were about the furthest thing from boring.

"Wait-so you hired a _sketch artist_?" Sam asked in disbelief, gazing at the photocopy of the eerily accurate composite sketch Lucifer had been carrying when they'd walked in.

"Lucifer doesn't do things by halves," Michael said tiredly, sitting in between them in a chair he'd been forced to pull over. He didn't appear happy at all by the seating arrangements.

"I do things in just the right way," Lucifer sniffed before holding the paper up by his face for comparison, "I have to admit, I didn't think Gabe would produce such an accurate sketch, but I suppose with a face like that he couldn't help but remember all the details."

Sam blushed, and Michael groaned.

"Stop teasing and proceed with the story. I'm sure he'd like to know how exactly we found him."

"Oh, right!" Lucifer exclaimed, set back on track by what Sam quickly determined to be the more levelheaded brother out of the two of them. "This requires going back to the beginning a bit-"

"Lucifer-"

"Hush Michael, you know it does," Lucifer shushed, waving a dismissive hand at his brother before continuing. "In the beginning, God created…"

" _Lucifer_."

Sam stifled a laugh as Lucifer clutched his heart and began to wail dramatically at Michael's aggressiveness.

Neither of them immediately reminded him of Gabriel in appearance, but personality-wise, Sam thought Gabriel had a strange mix of both his brothers. When they'd met, Gabriel had demonstrated a touch of a sense of humor Sam thought might be similar to Lucifer's, and he had the obvious commonality of working in the proper business world like Michael.

" _Fine_. Gabe quit his job around New Year's because of you, but we didn't know that," Lucifer started, tapping the edge of one of his rings against the tabletop, "Damn near gave Mikey a heart attack, and made _me_ curious. I drove over and had drinks with him, and he spilled the beans on how he'd met a captivating, dashing stranger who'd awoken him to the insidious machinations of capitalism. Long story short, after more than a few drinks, we managed to figure out you were his soulmate."

"Wait, he quit because of _me_?" Sam blurted out. It was one thing to speculate that Gabriel had been driven to because of their chance meeting, and quite another to hear confirmation.

"Well, _duh_ ," Lucifer said, "Before he met you, he'd been working at Leviathan Inc. for…five years or so? Never had any sort of inkling that it might not be the best fit for him. But after he met _you_ , he started getting his affairs in order, and he was out of there within a few months. That's part of how I knew you were his soulmate. Not even _I_ could get through Gabe that his job was bad for him, and I'm a pretty persuasive guy."

"How that is, I'll never know," Michael muttered.

"Michael, you're interrupting my storytelling flow," Lucifer whined, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet, "Buy me a coffee and get your grouchiness out before you come back, yeah?"

Michael huffed before standing with an elegance that bespoke his years of wearing fine suits. He and Gabriel both wore suits well, but there was something about the way his fit that made it subtly different from the way Gabriel had worn his. Maybe it was the level of familiarity, but Sam didn't think he could ever see Michael out of business wear, unlike Gabriel.

"Keep your money," Michael said before striding over to the counter, back ramrod straight and head held high.

"What an ass," Lucifer sighed before tossing his wallet onto the table, " _Brothers_. The banes of my existence, but they're all I got really."

"I get it," Sam sympathized, "Mine's an ass too."

Lucifer perked up at the implication he had a brother before glancing at Michael and leaning in.

"There's a bit of the story I can't tell with Michael at the table," he admitted, "All three of us had issues with believing in soulmates, which is why Gabriel didn't even contemplate you could be his until I talked with him after he quit his job. Our parents weren't soulmates, and my mom was trapped in the marriage when all she wanted was her soulmate. She…well, she killed herself over it when we were young."

Before Sam could offer some sort of platitude, Lucifer was already waving him off.

"Don't worry about it. It was a long time ago. I just mention it to provide context. Up until Gabe met you, I was very doubtful about soulmates, and Michael didn't believe in them at all."

"And Gabriel?" Sam couldn't help but ask, still hung up on their mother. There were stories, but could the desire for a soulmate really induce desperation so keenly felt that it drove a person mad, or to suicide?

"I think out of all three of us, he believed the most, but that's not saying much," Lucifer mused, propping his chin in his hand and narrowing his blue eyes in deep thought, "We never really talked about it after she died for various reasons, and he was a bit of a playboy in college. But once he got the job at Leviathan Inc., I don't think he thought about much of anything besides work."

Sam nodded, soaking up what he was being told like a sponge. After so many months with just his whimsical thoughts about what Gabriel _could_ be like, learning real information about him was thrilling.

"But now he's much better!" Lucifer exclaimed, coming out of wherever he'd gone into his head with an outburst of energy that had Sam leaning back, startled. "I'm training him up to take over managing my nightclub, and he's a lot more chipper and outgoing, kind of like he was back in his college days, but healthier? I don't know, I'm not the one to be speaking on health, but-oh here, let me just show you."

He pulled out his phone, and Sam leaned right back in enthusiastically, realizing what Lucifer intended to do after a second of confusion.

The picture of Gabriel was like the world's best punch to the gut.

He was sitting on the hood of what Sam knew had to be Michael's car if the man's disgruntled expression off to the side was any indication. There was no suit and tie in sight; just a T-shirt and jeans, and Sam instantly liked the clothes much better. The sun hit him from an angle, drawing out the gold in his hair and eyes as he leaned back, smiling easily at the camera.

It was the smile that did him in. Sam thought it had been the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen the first time they'd met, but now he knew that the smiles Gabriel had given him that day were mere shadows of what he was capable of. This Gabriel smiled as if the sun's brightness couldn't compete with him.

"Wow," Sam breathed, eyes glued to the screen. His brains were probably leaking out of his ears, but he didn't care. Gabriel looked a thousand times better than the memory he'd returned to time and time again.

"If this chance meeting didn't cinch it for me, your expression would. I've never seen someone so… _smitten_."

Michael returned with a frothy monstrosity in one hand and a tinier cup of something that was probably heavily espresso laced, judging by the smell, as well as a contorted expression that Sam could only describe as half-sneer and half-thoughtful. Sam couldn't say any more beyond that; he only spared a glance to the man before his eyes went right back to Gabriel.

"Your ability to make ordinary words sound blasphemous is enviable," Lucifer said, making grabby hands as Michael handed him the aforementioned frothy monstrosity, "Do you treat Adam like that?"

"Adam is none of your business."

Lucifer harrumphed before sucking on his straw with a loud slurp, eyebrows furrowed over his now glaring eyes.

"I'll send you plenty of pictures of him," he announced once he was done pouting over his drink, "Here, give me your number, and I'll spam you! I've got plenty, and while I do so, Michael can begin telling you what Gabriel's like."

Michael nearly choked on his sip of coffee. He obviously wasn't a fan of the idea, but Sam and Lucifer were already exchanging numbers, and Lucifer was shooting his brother a "hurry-up-and-go-along-with-it" look.

"Very well," Michael sighed, crossing his legs in a precise motion, even shaking out his shirt cuffs carefully before settling back into the chair. "I'll begin with his intellectual capabilities."

" _Boring_ ," Lucifer groaned, to which Michael scoffed.

"It is where I've decided to start, so be quiet and do the task you've assigned yourself."

Lucifer mimicked him quietly, but Michael didn't see, as Lucifer had craftily timed it with his brother's coffee sip. Sam could already tell that their banter wasn't going to dial down any time soon and wondered how Gabriel put up with them when they got like this. He and Dean bickered, but they weren't anywhere _near_ as bad as these two.

"Gabriel is bright, extraordinarily so. His natural intelligence got him through school and made him a touch lazy, but I believe he's largely grown out of those old habits," Michael started, tone matter of fact.

_Brutally honest. He's not going to sugarcoat anything._

That, however, didn't deter Sam. If anything, it made him listen more closely to the businessman's words. Whatever Michael said was undoubtedly truth; truth probably only minimally tainted by brotherly bias.

"He's as stubborn as a mule when he has his heart set on something. However, he is an excellent mediator and is skilled at compromise. Gabriel has a sharp tongue, but his skill with words also extends towards the other end of the spectrum. He can be disgustingly cheesy at times and can be so sickeningly romantic that I must warn you of it."

A laugh bubbled out of Sam before he could stop it (Gabriel was _that_ kind of romantic?), and Lucifer clucked his tongue.

"Don't listen too much to his views on romance. Michael detests love in general," he said, eyes fixed on his phone, "However, I will say that Gabriel _is_ pretty corny, and has been pining away for you for months now, so you're definitely going to get bombarded with icky cute affections. You may continue, Michael."

"Thank you for your graciousness," Michael said dryly.

"Does he like what he does now? Lucifer said something about training him," Sam asked before the brothers could set each other off.

"Lucifer runs a nightclub called Brimstone. However, he plans to return to his music career and arranged things accordingly. Gabriel is to run the club in his stead," Michael explained.

"Music…" Sam said, frowning as he looked at Lucifer a little more closely.

_It can't be…_

"You're Lucifer from Hell's Bells, aren't you?" Sam asked, suddenly wanting to slap himself for not seeing it sooner. Even with all of the shocking soulmate business, he should've known; Lucifer was an uncommon name for a reason, and his appearance fell right in line with the old band's image. Honestly, who wore pants that tight in the middle of a heatwave if not for some insane purpose?

"The one and only!" Lucifer said, brightening up with the recognition.

"Cas is going to _kill me_ ," Sam said, running a hand over his jaw as Lucifer's identity began to sank in. "My brother's boyfriend is a big fan. Like, still has posters and listens to all the albums and bemoans the hiatus constantly kind of fan. Drives my brother nuts!"

Lucifer's face somehow grew even brighter, and Michael sighed wearily at his brother began to preen.

"Lucifer's just as attentive of his fan base as they are of him. I'm surprised he managed to stay on hiatus this long without the obsessive affections they demonstrated when he was active."

"You always hit me where it hurts!" Lucifer exclaimed, contorting his face into a convincingly hurt expression only given away by the teasing spark in his eyes.

"I'm getting back on track before your ego can be inflated anymore," Michael declared, "But to answer your original question, Sam, I would say that he does like what he does. At first, I was skeptical-"

"You were a ginormous hater-"

"Of the new direction his life had taken," Michael continued without missing a beat, "But with time and observation, I've concluded that running Brimstone really is a better fit for him. It's…brought something back in him I haven't seen in a long time."

A natural pause lapsed before Sam's phone began to vibrate wildly, barraged by a sudden furry of texts.

"Don't mind me. I'm just providing you with your new necessities," Lucifer said, fingers tapping away, "Which begs the question: how are we going to reintroduce you to Gabriel?"

Sam's heart skipped a beat at the mere suggestion. Michael set his cup down and steepled his fingers, lips pursing slightly as he pondered.

"The situation is already highly irregular," he admitted, "I've accustomed myself to the concept of soulmates-"

"Because I made you."

Michael shot Lucifer a look before grunting in acknowledgment; a brief lapse in the poised, elegant businessman façade that Sam was quickly realizing _was_ a façade as much as Gabriel's had been. There was no question that Michael was more deeply entrenched, but the mask was still a mask, affixed so much more firmly on his face that Sam couldn't help but wonder if there was anything left beneath it.

_There must be something. Otherwise, he would've never come here with his brother._

"My point still stands. Soulmates, when they do connect, connect on a one-to-one level. Even those that meet by chance and then reunite at a later point with the awareness that they are soulmates tend to find each other on their own. I've never read anything in the literature where a soulmate's _relatives_ stumble upon their intended for them."

"It _is_ pretty odd," Lucifer murmured, frowning down at his phone, "I just came here on a whim. It _felt_ right to come, but I didn't think anything would come of it save for maybe someone possibly recognizing you from the drawing."

"I came here on a weird gut feeling," Sam admitted, "I haven't been here much after that day. Today's the first time I've been here in months."

"Which implies that somehow, _we_ were the ones meant to find you," Michael concluded with a frown that was very similar to Lucifer's, "I am a man of reason and logic, but soulmates don't fall under either category."

"Maybe we're here so that we can plan an elaborate reunion!" Lucifer said, snapping out of the strange somberness he'd fallen under. "Gabriel's so busy that it's probably up to us to make sure everything goes right."

"He _has_ been working a lot lately," Michael conceded, but the frown lingered, "I don't think we should delay this though. Keeping soulmates separated isn't wise."

"It _is_ pretty bad luck," Lucifer remarked, setting down his phone momentarily to pin Sam with knowing eyes, "Besides, I don't think loverboy here can wait."

Sam flushed but didn't deny it. It would be pointless too; now that he knew where Gabriel was, it took all he had to stay in his seat and not run off to look for him. His legs had alternated with jiggling beneath the table, and his blood sang with impatience.

"Then that settles it," Michael said, lightly slapping his thighs before standing, "To Brimstone it is."

"And at a good time too. If we leave now, I can get dressed so I can run the show while the lovers reunite," Lucifer said, slurping down the rest of his drink as he scrambled to his feet.

Sam rushed to join them, a smile stretching across his face as he realized that this was _it_. Very little stood in between him and Gabriel now, and soon, there would be nothing at all.

_It's been less than a year and a day, but it's somehow felt like an eternity._

"Let's hustle! Mikey will drive, and I shall fill Sam in on whatever else he needs to know."

"It's my car, so of course I'd drive."

"Technicality," Lucifer said dismissively as he made the motions to call someone, "I got to ring ahead to Meg and let her know what's up. She's going to _flip_ when she hears _I'm_ the one that found Gabriel's long-lost love."

Outside, the late hour surprised Sam. The sun had sunk towards the horizon in a sheet of red that burned across the sky, which was already darkening quickly in its absence. Lucifer was right; as a nightclub, Brimstone would only just be getting geared up. The night was young, and for the first time in a while, Sam let himself revel in his youth. He'd found his _soulmate_ , and they'd have the whole night and beyond together.

Michael drove a dark sedan; a practical and quietly elegant car that Sam had no doubt cost more than it looked at first glance. He folded himself up in the back, fully expecting Lucifer to take shotgun, only to be surprised when he squeezed in right alongside him.

"Shotgun's cursed for me," he explained briefly before focusing on his call, "Meg, _bella_! Listen to me very carefully…"

Sam shot a questioning look to Michael, who started the car and pulled away from the curb before responding.

"Lucifer was in a serious car wreck some time back. He was in the passenger seat," Michael said, eyes meeting his in the rearview mirror before sliding to look at his brother, who was chatting away, "I don't know more than that. We weren't close then."

His eyes shifted back to the road, but not before Sam saw something in them. Michael had spoken in flat, precise words that matched his mask, but his eyes had revealed more than he'd intended.

Sam's hunch was right. There was still something left beneath Michael's façade, buried so much more deeply than what Gabriel contained within himself that Sam suspected only his eyes gave him away in fractions of seconds so short that witnessing it would be a rarity.

Michael drove with no music (not a surprise at all), so Sam busied himself with texting Cas to let him know he'd be out very late at minimum and might not be back at all for the night.

_Cas: Is everything ok?_

He smiled before typing, then rephrasing what he'd typed and sent the news that would change everything.

_Sam: Yeah. I found him._

Cas' response was a mess of exclamation marks and question marks before he decided that a call was in order.

" _You found him_?"

"Cas, please," Sam winced, pulling the phone slightly away from his ear, "No need to yell."

"Sorry," Cas said, not sounding very sorry at all for his highly uncharacteristic outburst, "But…you found him! How can I not be excited for you? Are you with him right now? Are you spending the night with him? Do I need to supply-?"

"No! No supplies necessary," Sam rushed to say, cheeks pink at the mere thought. Cas's bluntness, however refreshing it could be, also led to the man getting some strange notions in his head, "And I haven't _technically_ met him yet. I actually ran into his brothers first."

"His brothers? How is that possible? The mythology never focuses on meetings established by secondary sources. Perhaps it has to do with…"

At that point, Lucifer decided to tune in, having just finished his conversation with whoever Meg was.

"My brother's boyfriend," Sam explained as Cas went on a complex academic tangent, "He's been very passionate about the whole soulmate thing."

Lucifer perked up and suddenly leaned in, obscuring Sam's vision with ginger hair for a brief moment before he righted himself and began to speak dramatically.

"Brother's boyfriend you say? Put me on speakerphone, I want to chat with my fan!"

Sam obliged, stifling a laugh as, on the other end, Cas cut himself off and fell into a shocked silence.

"Sam," he started slowly, "Is that Lucifer from Hell's Bells?"

"It's always nice to be recognized," Lucifer said with a toothy smile that somehow translated into his voice, "It's been so _long_ since I've talked with such an avid fan. Tell me, did you go to any of my concerts back when I ran the circuit? I want to know if my stage presence can be improved upon."

Cas made a strangled noise that sent Sam into a silent, shaking laughter fit before Dean inevitably butted in. By this point, the two were most certainly cozied up in Cas' wonderfully cool apartment.

"Who's this?" he asked suspiciously. He must not have heard any of the previous conversation due to having been asleep if his gruff (well, _extra_ gruff) voice was any indication.

"Lucifer from Hell's Bells," Lucifer chirped promptly, "Who's this?"

There was a pause broken only by Cas hissing something incomprehensible to Dean. Not that the specifics mattered; it was clear that he was warning him not to embarrass him.

Unfortunately, Dean was over-protective with a capital O and P, and always held a bit of a grudge against Lucifer and the band. Cas' years-long obsession with them was an outlet for affection that wasn't going to him, and Dean had grown greedy with love ever since the two of them had gotten together. Cas was his, and his only, and everyone else could "fuck off and find their own soulmate" as his tipsy self liked to put it.

"This is Dean Winchester, his _soulmate_ ," he stressed, "I know exactly who you are. You're the guy in the too tight jeans in that poster Cassie still has hanging inside the closet door."

" _Dean_!"

Sam couldn't help it. The whole situation had grown too absurd for comprehension and too surreal for him to anything but laugh uproariously. Even Michael chuckled in the front, a sound that didn't escape Sam even over the sudden din of Cas and Dean bickering.

"Oh my. Did I start a lover's spat?" Lucifer asked innocently; too innocently with his hand pressed to his lips and eyelashes fluttering.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Michael grumbled.

"Guys, I'm going to have to go-oh, forget it. They can learn the details later," Sam chuckled, hanging up just as Cas started yelling, "It'd be like _you_ getting a phone call from Doctor Sexy-"

"That sounded like an older brother," Lucifer said conversationally as they drove on through the now streetlamp lit streets, "Am I right?"

"Yeah. Dean's my only brother too, and I'm grateful for that. Technically, _I_ found Gabriel before _he_ found Cas, but not by that much."

"Still counts as bragging rights!"

"Lucifer, sometimes you astound me with your childishness," Michael interjected, to which Lucifer simply stuck his tongue out and made a sour face.

"You're just jealous you hardly ever had bragging rights when we were kids," he smirked, crossing his arms.

"That is most certainly _not_ -"

"Lucifer, tell me about Brimstone!" Sam interrupted, cutting on the ensuing verbal spat with an extremely obvious, but ultimately successful attempt at changing the subject.

Ever fickle and flighty in mood, Lucifer took the bait eagerly, launching into an impressive account of how he'd opened Brimstone with the idea of "refined debauchery" and little to no real support from his social circles. No one had thought it'd take off (musicians dabbling in different careers on a hiatus was generally frowned upon), but it had, and Sam listened with growing interest to the stories of themed nights and tailored to fit costume parties he'd hosted. Brimstone, apparently, was a versatile building; capable of rentable entertainment space as much as the primary goal of being a high-class nightclub.

Then Lucifer transitioned into speaking of how Gabriel had taken to the club like a duck to water after he'd decided to give it a go. Sam enjoyed hearing of how his soulmate (his _soulmate_ ) got caught up in the shenanigans that went on in Brimstone and how people were starting to give him nicknames due to his continued presence (Loki was a particularly interesting sounding one with what sounded like a lengthy backstory). Above all, Lucifer had pictures to go with every story and was quick to share them as he spoke, helping to paint a clearer picture of Gabriel with every anecdote he recounted.

Gabriel was so much _more_ than the downtrodden man in a suit he'd met back in the autumn. He had a complicated family and a complex personality; an essence once hidden and now rising to the surface with every day he spent leaving his past behind him.

Sam couldn't help but be proud of him. Gabriel had completed a 180 that many people wouldn't have dared taken the plunge on, and he'd made it work for him.

"Oh, we're almost there," Lucifer said, looking out the window at the neon lights flashing by. They were in an area Sam had never ventured into, mainly because he wasn't the clubbing type, but that didn't keep him from recognizing that the further they were going, the fancier and more elaborate the buildings got.

_And the longer the lines,_ he thought as their speed slowed, crawling by lines of prospective partiers that ran out of entrances and spilled onto the sidewalks.

"I'll go around the back. I need sleep, but I'll be back for my morning visit," Michael said as a tall, dark building with a neon flame logo over the door came into view, "I still have work."

"Lame," Lucifer replied automatically as his fingers flew over his phone, "Sam, I hope you're warm-blooded because it's going to be pretty cold inside."

Sam looked down at his outfit, feeling _very_ underdressed in comparison to the glitzy, glamorous people lined up in front of Brimstone, before answering him.

"I'll be fine if it's alright for me to go in like this."

Lucifer looked up at him before giving him a once over and clicking his tongue, but not unkindly.

"Don't worry about that, you look fine. Gabriel will appreciate the display of muscle."

Michael turned a corner, and the excited din from the front grew muffled as they rolled down a quieter side street before swinging into the back lot. Here, there wasn't much of interest-just some employee's cars and a set of Dumpsters-but a woman was waiting for them in the stoop of the back door. Her cigarette clashed wildly with an outfit Sam could only describe as a cross between goth and peasant serving girl.

"Tonight's theme is distinctly Norse," Lucifer explained before stepping out, "Meg! You look terrifyingly grumpy."

"You would be too if people kept getting ale all over the counters you had to clean," she drawled, letting out a stream of smoke that stood out blue-gray in the now dark sky before smirking, "At least I don't have to use the mixer nearly as much as I usually have to."

"No need to customize beer," Lucifer remarked, taking her cigarette and peering at the lit end before tossing it to the ground, "These things will kill you."

"You're one to talk," she sneered, perfectly comfortable snarking back at her boss.

Sam wasn't surprised when Lucifer simply laughed. In every way imaginable, Lucifer seemed determined to be contrary and atypical, and he could easily imagine the man as a lax boss one could be chummy with; at least until things got serious.

Meg's eyes drifted his way, widening as she caught sight of him hanging back a bit.

"Well, hello handsome. You're right; he looks just like the sketch!"

"Damn eerie, isn't it?" Lucifer said before bounding back to Michael's idling car and tapping the passenger window.

Michael rolled it down with great reluctance, and they exchanged some words. However, the specifics eluded Sam, as a strange feeling had overwhelmed him at the sight of the building.

It was as if all the pining had solidified itself, connecting his heart to the piece he knew Gabriel had with a thread he was compelled to follow. The same unconscious certainty that had led Sam towards Hallowed Grounds was telling him to go inside; to follow one last path on his own.

Gabriel was _so close_.

Sam ascended the steps and yanked open the door, giving no heed to patience or plans or the rest of the world around him. All that separated him from Gabriel now was a building, and the thread was already pulling him onward, promising to guide him without error.

So, he took the plunge and slipped into Brimstone without another thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're super close to reuniting! That'll be the treat for the next chapter, and after that, the story will draw to a close. I'll miss writing Michael and Lucifer's banter because their dialogue is just so fun to write.


	9. Come Home to My Heart

**Chapter Nine: Come Home to My Heart**

There was something odd about the feeling plaguing Gabriel tonight.

Leviathan Inc. had led him to hone certain cutthroat instincts and suffocate others, like the playboy whims and fancies of his college days that had successfully led him towards single, interested people and steered him clear of the more suspicious characters. He learned to focus on sniffing out weaknesses and soft spots to be utilized to his advantage, and everything else fell to the wayside. The creature of wild abandon that relished tossing logic to the wind after finally freeing himself (if only through distance and in appearance) from his family had dissolved shortly upon beginning his career there and had been gone for a long time.

Those were the two extremes that Gabriel had formed himself into regarding instinct, but the sensation traveling up and down Gabriel's spine was of a completely different nature, falling into a strange third category. It was more focused, ascending and descending every vertebra he had with a nagging feeling that forced him to pay attention, lighting up a deep, dark section of his brain he didn't even know he had.

It was distracting, especially as this was the first time Lucifer had entrusted him to spearhead a costume event at Brimstone. The night was going well for his Norse feast-themed party, and instead of being able to fully enjoy it, Gabriel was instead sticking to the walls, watching and waiting for _something_ he didn't know.

_That's a lie. I know what this is._

It was a half-truth at best, as Gabriel couldn't be _sure_ , but he thought it was a soulmate thing.

"Soulmate thing," he muttered to himself, reaching up to adjust the golden horns he'd donned for the night in honor of the nickname that was looking like it would stick: Loki. "How specific."

Gabriel's decision to redefine his life before finding Sam had been set in stone when he'd take Lucifer up on his offer. Sam had been his motivation for all these months as he ironed out all the kinks that he'd accrued in his voyage through the world. Gabriel thought of Sam every day-that couldn't be questioned whatsoever-but he'd gotten the pining under control. The heartache was manageable now, soothed by time and the certainty that they _would_ meet again, no ifs ands or buts about it.

Which made the sensation he was feeling all the more out of place. There'd been nothing about tonight that made Gabriel think of Sam, like coffee, books, and sweatshirts emblazoned with school logos. He hadn't spotted anyone that looked like they could be Sam from behind, and he hadn't talked about Sam today with either of his brothers.

Gabriel frowned as the feeling traveled up his spine once more. There was something he was missing here, and it bothered him that the answer was probably something completely obvious he was missing at the moment. Gabriel hadn't listened to instincts not related to business decisions in so long that trying to decipher what he was feeling right now was more difficult than it should've been.

"You look like crap."

Gabriel struggling not to jump out of his skin at the voice just a few feet away from him, succeeding with only moderate success at keeping his composure.

At some point, Meg had snuck up on him, which was a rare occurrence as it was usually the other way around. Gabriel had gotten the uncanny ability to materialize out of thin air from Lucifer, who insisted that keeping people on their toes was ingrained in the very fiber of his DNA.

"Gee thanks," Gabriel replied sarcastically. "And I tried so hard tonight!"

He threw his red cloak (borrowed from Lucifer's terrifying collection of costume items) with a half-hearted flick of his wrist.

"Not what I meant," Meg apologized with a shake of her head. "You just look…lost in thought, and not in party mode at all."

"Well, you got that right," Gabriel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The sensation crawling up and down his spine wasn't _uncomfortable_ , but the growing intensity was taking more and more of his attention. "Maybe I just need a bit of a break. Five minutes of muffled bass in the bathroom before I get back into it."

_It won't make the feeling go away, but I'll either figure out what it's trying to tell me or, if all else fails, suppress it for the rest of the night._

Gabriel wasn't keen on doing the latter when he'd spent so much time getting back into processing emotions properly-and this particular one felt _important_ -but at the end of the day, he would do what had to be done. Lucifer wasn't here for him to fall back on, and Gabriel wasn't going to let this be a lackluster night if he could help it.

"If you're sure," Meg said doubtfully, balancing her empty tray on her hip. It was hard to see her in the shadows that clung to the wall, but Gabriel knew she was frowning. "Personally, I think you need-"

Gabriel never got to hear what she thought he needed because her phone began to vibrate from somewhere within her corset.

"Don't mind me," Gabriel quipped before leaving as Meg stuck her hand into her bra to fish it out, which she responded to with a patented eye roll as she took the call.

Gabriel took the stairs to a second-floor bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind him after making sure it was empty. If he was going to take five minutes for himself, they might as well be 100% private ones, even if Michael would've frowned at the selfish and poor business move.

"Well, Mikey's not here to ream me out about it," Gabriel murmured, sticking his hands under the tap to get the water going. Like everything else about Brimstone, the bathroom was dark and sleek, kept as clean as a prestigious nightclub bathroom should be according to Lucifer's standards.

The feeling was persistent, demanding his attention that he was alone. Not even the cool splash of water on his face could take the edge of the press on the base of his neck.

Gabriel was baffled, as it was clear it was trying to tell him _something_ , but what? All it was doing was confusing him and making him into a distracted mess.

_When I figure this out I already know I'm going to be mad at how blind I'm being right now._

Gabriel sighed, loud and harsh, his head bowed over the sink. If only he had some sort of _hint_ , or better yet, a bit more emotional acuity and sensitivity. He'd kill for the instinctive and impulsive nature he'd been famous for in the old days.

_Something. Anything,_ he thought, a bit frantic under the knowledge that time was bleeding away through much more than five minutes and that this couldn't be _ignored_. This had to do with Sam, and Gabriel would be damned if he picked work over Sam a second time-

Wait. That was food for thought. Maybe this wasn't a new brand of pining, but rather something to do with Sam directly.

_Maybe he's in trouble? It doesn't_ feel _like he's in danger though._

Gabriel growled in frustration, scrubbing his hands over his face. Things were never easy for him; he _knew_ that, but it didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

He straightened up as his neck began to ache under the extra weight of the horns, and nearly screamed as he looked in the mirror. There was something-no, _someone_ -behind him.

It was Sam.

Gabriel whirled around with a strangled gasp and the feeling stiffening his whole spine. Was Sam-?

No, he wasn't _actually_ behind him. The door was still locked; the bathroom still empty. There was nothing but slick black tile behind him, but when he whipped around to look into the mirror again, Sam was still there.

"Christ," he breathed out, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he blinked once, then twice, before accepting that yes, that really _was_ Sam standing just behind his reflection's shoulder. "Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?"

A ghost of a smile played across Sam's lips, the barely-there motion only highlighting the odd serenity that relaxed his features and softened his blue-green eyes.

There was nothing to be said. All Gabriel needed was that smile and the shift of Sam's eyes to the door to finally understand why he was feeling this way.

_I'm such an idiot._

He flew towards the door, fumbling with the lock as the feeling _tugged_ on him, trying to lead him down a path Gabriel wanted to follow so badly that he wished he really _could_ materialize at will.

"Dammit!" he said, throwing open the door and turning right, emerging back out onto the catwalk and into the loud, chaotic atmosphere of Brimstone. The second floor was surprisingly empty, but that mattered little to Gabriel. He was a man on a mission, and the bone-deep sensation was steering him away from the main party areas and deeper into the service halls.

_He's in here somewhere._

Gabriel took off at a run, passing through half darkened and empty halls, punching in keycodes with a shaky hand where necessary. He was playing the most important game of hot and cold in his life, and Gabriel was _not_ going to lose when the endgame was so special.

Left, right, then down a flight of stairs that Gabriel took two at a time and skidded to a halt at the bottom of, cloak billowing out in a manner he absent-mindedly noted would look amazing on the security tapes. He punched in one last keycode before throwing open the door and emerging into a hall just as someone at the other end ran around a corner fast enough to skid on the tile floor.

Gabriel's heart jumped up to lodge in his throat as his brain processed Sam Winchester in all of his long-limbed, basketball shorts glory coming to a half-crouch at the end of the hall, dark hair wild around his shocked face as he realized who was watching him from the other end.

For a moment, they just stood staring at each other, panting for breath and remaining rooted in their respective spots. A fluorescent light buzzed somewhere in the space between them, highlighting the remarkable quiet that this hall possessed considering they were still in Brimstone.

Sam was tanner, and maybe broader, but that might just be his clothes (was that a _muscle tee_?) giving that impression. His cheeks were flushed from running, reminiscent of the autumn rosiness that Gabriel had found adorable so long ago when they first met.

Everything about him was achingly familiar despite the fact that Gabriel didn't even know his last name, but that didn't matter. Sam was known to Gabriel in a strange that surpassed measly things like surnames and birthdays.

"I like the horns," Sam said before promptly looking like a deer caught in headlights. It was clear the words had slipped out of him, and that hadn't been what he'd intended to say.

A peal of laughter escaped Gabriel because Sam sounded just like he had when they'd made jokes in the coffee shop. The humor was so unexpected, but wholly welcome, that Gabriel succumbed to a whole round of side-splitting giggles that forced him to lean against the wall for support.

"It's good to see you too, Sam," he managed to say, reaching up to take the horns off. He didn't need them now. Here, he was Gabriel, not Loki. "Come on and kiss me already."

Gabriel tossed the horns into a corner as he started down the hall (Lucifer would _kill_ him for that, but oh well), eager to meet a grinning Sam who was already halfway down the hall with open arms.

It was a homecoming in every sense of the word. Gabriel leaped into Sam's embrace with a giddy grin to match Sam's jubilant expression and innate trust in the fact that Sam could support his clingy weight. A weight he'd unconsciously been carrying around in Sam's absence slipped away into dust, making him feel lighter than air.

"I missed you," Sam confessed, arms locked around his waist as Gabriel wrapped his legs and arms around Sam tight enough that he could cross his ankles on the small of Sam's back and grasp his own elbows. "How do you even miss someone you barely _know_? You took a piece of my heart, you bastard."

"I'd apologize for that, but since you had a bit of mine, I say we're even now," Gabriel replied, his overwhelming happiness surging up and overriding ever neuron his brain had to offer. Sam smelled like summer and was just as warm, his body solid and sturdy and so incredibly _missed_.

It didn't get any better than this exact moment. Gabriel knew that as long as he lived, he would remember the way Sam tucked his face into his neck and held him tight like he never wanted to let him go. The insistent feeling that had sent him hurtling through Brimstone fell away, its job done now that he was reunited with Sam for good.

"Can I kiss you?"

Gabriel pulled back at the question to see Sam gazing at him with a mixed expression of bashfulness and determination. He had to bite his tongue at how sweet it looked on him (he really had no business looking both hot _and_ cute), and instead opted for the bold, direct approach.

Kissing Sam set something on fire in Gabriel that made every other kiss he'd had in his life pale in comparison. If he'd been standing, he probably would've been worried for his knees, because Sam was more than a skilled kisser and making his dizzier by the second. _He'd_ been the one to initiate, yet when they pulled apart to gasp for breath, there was no question Sam had come out on top.

"Round two," Gabriel demanded, a competitive streak already rising in him at the way Sam smiled cheekily at him.

"So I can win again?" he asked innocently, batting dark eyelashes at him.

Gabriel threaded his fingers through Sam's hair and tugged just enough for Sam's eyes to darken in an appetizing way. He was a half-second away from reiterating his desire for a _much_ longer round two when an intrusive thought popped into his head and refused to go away.

"Wait…how'd you even find this place?" Gabriel asked, deciding that round two could wait (for now).

"It's a long story," Sam admitted after a pause where Gabriel watched him manually process they were switching gears. "It actually involves your brothers."

"My _brothers_?"

As if summoned by the mere vague mention, Gabriel heard footsteps echoing down the hall Sam had come from.

_You've_ got _to be kidding me._

He groaned as Sam turned in the direction of the footsteps just in time to see Lucifer and Michael rounding the corner with Meg trailing behind, clearly not as invested as the two in front of her were regarding speed. Gabriel wasn't even sure why his brothers were running so fast, especially Michael, who Gabriel had witnessed on numerous occasions use Lucifer as a human shield to prevent his clothes from getting ruined. There was no way he would _run_ in a suit.

"Oh, it all worked out! That's good because you're one fast motherfucker Sam," Lucifer wheezed, doubling over to clasp his knees and regain his breath. His seemingly never-ending manic energy did not translate into good stamina for physical exertion.

"I ran for nothing. This is _Armani_. I think my shoes are creased," Michael groused, not faring much better than Lucifer in terms of breathing speed. He still looked mostly impeccable in his standard work suit, but his hair was windswept, and his shirt was starting to come untucked on one side.

"What the _fuck_ are you guys doing?" Gabriel asked, growing more and more confused (and maybe a little concerned) by the second.

"Did Meg not tell you?" Lucifer asked, looking back at the now thoughtful bartender.

"No, that's what I was trying to tell you before Sam ran off," she said, snapping a bit at Lucifer before her tone became more pensive to reflect her expression. "So, how'd you know, Gabe?"

"And how'd _you_ know where to go?" Michael added, straightening his tie as he tried to regain some semblance of normalcy. The effect fell flat due to the fact that his face was still flushed from his run.

"A weird gut instinct?" Sam replied at the same time Gabriel said, "A magical soulmate feeling."

Everyone lapsed into a moment of silence. Gabriel took the opportunity to put together the context clues he'd been provided and came to the conclusion that somehow, his idiot brothers and Sam had met, and after whenever that had happened, they'd take off after Sam when he'd followed his "weird gut instinct."

_Soulmates are strange things,_ Gabriel thought with a shiver at the concept that, if only for a handful of minutes, the universe had linked him and Sam together in an inexplicable way so they could be back together. _Amazing, wonderful things, but also strange._

Lucifer, unsurprisingly, was the first to break the silence.

"And so we have the soulmate proof, ladies and gentlemen," he announced with the air of a king knighting a particularly noble man, standing straight to point a finger at them.

"There's only one lady here," Michael pointed out as Sam set Gabriel down. Gabriel would've been disappointed if he didn't already have plans to take advantage of Sam's willingness to pick him up like a rag doll.

Meg snorted, her skirts swishing as she brushed past him with a dark smirk. Her surprise at the situation was hidden well, which wasn't shocking considering how much she'd witnessed throughout her time working in Brimstone and ingratiating herself into Lucifer's "special inner circle of people I can sort-of care about."

"He's probably including you in the count, Mikey."

Lucifer snickered as Michael reared back in indignation, but Meg made it clear she'd delivered her final parting shot, as she wasn't turning around to deign him with a continued conversation.

"Congratulations you two. I'm sure you'll turn into a _disgustingly_ sweet couple that I'll have to serve lots of fun shots to in the future," she said, clasping their shoulders and smiling at the thought.

"Why does that terrify me?" Sam asked slowly.

Meg only smiled wider before letting them both go and continuing down the hall, bending to pick up a flash of gold.

"Ah, I wonder what happened to these," she said, dusting them off before clucking her tongue. "Honestly, Gabe, I know you were _eager_ , but these are actually kind of nice. Now I have to go hang them back up."

She rounded the corner with a put-out sigh, leaving Gabriel in an immediate cold sweat as Lucifer fixed a smile that promised death and destruction on him.

"Were those the horns I let you borrow, Gabe?"

Sam shuffled so that he was partially in between him and Lucifer, moving on some deep-seated animal instinct in the face of Lucifer's chillingly pleasant demeanor. His brother was capable of drawing visceral reactions out of people with the juxtaposition of that evil smile and cheery face.

"Ummm….no?" Gabriel tried nervously.

"Just leave it," Michael said tiredly, grasping the back of Lucifer's collar like he was some errant hellhound to bring to heel. "You have to get ready to run the club for the night since Gabriel is clearly not going to continue doing so."

Lucifer paused, and Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief behind Sam's back at Michael's ever-present rationality. Thank God for pompous, yet logical older brothers that could keep their heads straight.

"Brimstone needs me," Lucifer declared, his inner fire lit as he realized that it was now up to him to "salvage the night" and keep the party going. "Oh my God, I need a _cloak_ , and-Gabriel, give Michael that cloak!"

"Why Mike?" Gabriel asked as Sam helped him undo the fastenings. Apparently, Sam was smart enough to have picked up when to just keep quiet and go along when Lucifer started to get into something.

"Because Michael is going to assist me," Lucifer announced with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a truly killer smile.

_He's gone insane._

Michael spluttered uncharacteristically, raising his hands to no doubt begin to gesticulate through some sort of argument against Lucifer's proposed madness. However, the cloak hit him in the face before he could, leaving him to fumble his way out of the rich drapes of red that Sam had thrown at him.

Gabriel stared at Sam in shock and a boatload of admiration for his gusty move, but he didn't seem to be very fazed by the potential consequences of his action. Lucifer just laughed at the whole situation, refusing to help Michael extricate himself.

"You two have fun. Gabe and I will go… _somewhere_ ," Sam said, looking down at him for guidance.

"Upstairs. There's a nice soundproof loft with our names possibly written on it," Gabriel suggested, his heart unexpectedly warmed by the way Sam said his nickname. People shortened his name all the time, and he never cared one way or the other what people called him, but the way Sam said it made it sound just a bit more special for whatever reason.

"Loft it is," Sam agreed with a firm nod before taking his hand. "Lighten up Michael, it's not the end of the world!"

"Easy for you to say!" Michael retorted, head still caught in the cloak, " _You_ have your _soulmate_!"

"There's no need to sound bitter, little brother," they heard Lucifer say sweetly from behind them once he'd stopped cackling. "You work with Adam after all."

"Adam is just a _friend_!"

"And _I'm_ just the devil incarnate."

Gabriel bit his lip to keep from laughing as he punched in the keycode for the door. Sam shot him a questioning look that he shook his head at and mouthed "later" as he heard Michael finally free himself from the cloak.

"I'd rather _die_ than assist you in the hedonistic activities Brimstone endorses."

"Yeah, yeah, love the passion in that response, but save it for the dance floor. I've got just the sort of costume in mind for you..."

The door swung shut, cutting off the rest of the scintillating conversation that Gabriel just _knew_ would end with them squabbling all the way up until Michael was dragged into the limelight of the dance floor along with Lucifer.

"You know, I shared one car ride with them, and I already get the sense that I was lucky enough to survive that experience with my sanity intact," Sam remarked.

Gabriel laughed, tugging them towards the stairs. The stairwell was dim, but he knew Brimstone like the back of his hand and didn't have any reason to falter.

"You're not wrong. But forget about my brothers for now, even if I _do_ want to hear how you somehow met them before _me_ later."

He took a couple of steps upward before looking over his shoulder at Sam, who was already looking right back up at him with those darkened eyes.

"Catch me if you can," he dared, already running up the steps with a head start some would deem unfair, but Gabriel just counted as practical in the face of Sam's notable athleticism.

"Did you just- _Gabe_!"

Their laughter rebounded in the stairwell, and it was no surprise to both of them that Sam eventually caught up to Gabriel, but that was only to be expected. In all the ways that counted, neither of them would be getting far from the other any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was extremely delayed due to the fact that I rewrote this chapter three times. As in I wrote three different versions because I couldn't pin down the tone I wanted. In the end, I settled on a humorous, fluffy take, because this whole story is really just a teasing take in the soulmate trope. It was frustrating, but the third time really was the charm, as I wrote this final version in a single day.
> 
> There's one more chapter after this, and then this story will come to an end. It's been a refreshing break from my other story and writing, and I'll be a bit sorry to see it end. I got to write so much extra fun banter here...
> 
> P.S: Chapter title is a lyric from the song Supercut by Lorde. It's a song that gives the complete opposite vibes as this chapter, but the lyric was too perfect to not use.


	10. Past the Year and Day

**Chapter 10: Past the Year and Day**

Sam brought Gabe home for Christmas after they'd gotten settled and fallen completely into a relationship that couldn't be shaken. However, he didn't sit with him on the porch swing until the last night of their stay.

Christmas went about as well as Sam could've hoped for considering the still volatile dynamic between Dean and Gabe (two brash personality types was a nightmare to deal with) and the entirely different environment Gabe had been subjected to for the holiday week. The two-story, cozy Winchester House smack dab in the Midwest standing against snowdrifts was a far cry from the mild, blink and you miss it Californian coast winters Gabe was used to. Cas wasn't a fan of the snow, decrying the harsh weather with a fervency he reflected in the layers he wore and the proximity he kept to Dean for warmth, and Sam had expected a similar reaction from Gabe, who was the biggest drama queen he knew besides Lucifer.

But Gabe's reaction had been anything but. Sam was thrilled to see Gabe gape at the snow and icicles and the fact that they'd had a White Christmas this year. He'd taken to the Midwest cold with grace and excitement, even if his first strides up to the house and subsequent first impression on his parents was marred by a truly impressive slow-motion fall on hidden patches of ice on the driveway that would've put a banana slip cartoon to shame. The thirty-second ordeal had made Dean laugh so hard he knocked the wreath from the door, earning himself a tongue lashing from both Mary and Cas.

Luckily, no one was immune to embarrassment in the Winchester house, so Gabe's initial embarrassment was quickly buried under the onslaught of incidents that were bound to occur when one tossed them all together under one roof. Cas became an unfortunate victim of the beer-cap flicking contest between Dean, John, and Gabe; felled David and Goliath style by the hand of his own soulmate. John had gained a small bald spot on the back of his head sometime after their summer visit that everyone had taken to poking after Gabe had been the first ballsy idiot to do so. Sam and Dean suffered the typical embarrassment of baby photos, and even Mary had her own incident when she'd fallen for the "look in the water bottle" prank Gabe pulled on her.

But perhaps she hadn't been completely oblivious to that. Sam knew his mother, and he thought she'd let herself be pranked on purpose so she could join in on some fun. It was reminiscent of his youth and the prank wars he and Dean used to pull on each other.

Overall, things went well. The first aid kit had only had to be pulled out three times (twice for Cas, the poor guy), and the food had been superb. Dean and Mary kept trying to outdo each other with the meals they made, and Cas surprised them all with an extra cherry pie one night to go alongside the standard Mary Winchester apple pie. Even _Gabe_ had been embarrassed at the amount of eye-fucking those two exchanged the rest of the night, and he was the one that had to be rescued when he'd licked the lamppost at the end of the block "to fulfill the winter stereotype!"

An unexpectedly heavy snowfall forcibly extended their visit. Gabe was a little disappointed, as he'd made tentative plans to be back in time for the New Year's Eve party at Brimstone with his brothers, but between Sam doing his best to cheer him up and a truly chaotic Skype call to the Milton brothers, Gabe wasn't upset for long., The snow fell all day, snowing in Dean's Impala with a layer of ice that Dean bemoaned from the living room window. He was the one that had to scrape it off since he'd arrived with Cas last due to a pitstop in the mountains he _said_ was due to bad roads, but everyone knew better. Gabe's car had gotten garage rights as a result, and Sam had to reign him in before he made one more horny comment at the other couple that tipped Dean over the edge.

But now, the snow had stopped falling, the silent, snow muffled night greeting Sam like an old friend while Gabe woke him like a gentle lover.

"What's wrong?" he asked, running his fingers through Gabe's messy hair as he bent down to press a butter-fly light kiss to his throat. Gabe wasn't the heaviest sleeper in the world, but he wasn't one to wake in the middle of the night like him.

"It's stopped snowing," Gabe murmured, pulling back to gaze at him with eyes just barely visible thanks to the dim glow of the reflected snow outside.

"Don't tell me you want to make snow angels now," Sam groaned as his sleep fuzzy brain took in Gabe's half-dressed state and the coats lying at the foot of his childhood bed. He loved snowy winters, but he feared he'd created a monster by introducing Gabe to the weather.

"No," Gabe said, tugging insistently on his wrist. "I want to sit on the porch swing."

The words filtered through Sam's mind and woke him faster than Gabe's soft kisses.

"Why?" Sam asked, sitting up and taking the pullover sweater Gabe handed him. It was mostly dark as Gabe hadn't turned on any lights, but that didn't matter; they knew each other well enough by touch to navigate the dark with their hands.

He hadn't told Gabe about the tradition behind the swing. Sam had planned on doing so at some point during the holiday week, but with one thing after the other, it slipped his mind. Besides, the swing would be cold and unpleasant to sit on in the winter, and when the storm had come in, Sam had written it off as something better saved for a later, warmer visit. The swing was more suited for viewing summer wheat than frozen winter landscapes and Gabe could be incredibly persnickety; just because he was okay with the cold didn't mean he wanted to sit on a porch swing in December.

"Your mother told me the most interesting story when I went down for a midnight snack," Gabe started, standing up off the bed so Sam could get out. "She told me about the knight and the bard."

Sam paused, looking down at Gabe's shadowed form. He didn't have to see his face to know that he was wearing a half-mystified, half-pondering expression. It was a common expression people tended to walk away wearing after being ensnared in a conversation with Mary Winchester.

"My favorite bedtime story," he said wryly. "Yet another opportunity to embarrass me."

"I thought it was sweet," Gabe countered, accepting the coat Sam helped him into. "And also, serendipitous. It sounds a lot like us."

Sam knew it did. The story of pining and an unexpected, but sorely missed connection after a brief encounter ended up foretelling how his own soulmate journey would unfold. In his head, he was the knight and Gabe the bard, and while they hadn't been apart for a year and day, it had felt like an eternity.

"You do like to call me your knight in shining armor," Sam teased, pressing a kiss to the hollow of Gabe's throat just before he zipped his coat up.

"I must've been subconsciously aware," Gabe joked back before sobering. "But it must've been nice, knowing your soulmate was guaranteed."

The Winchester soulmate phenomenon. Sam _had_ told Gabe of this one and explained in detail when Gabe's curiosity hadn't been sated how they could trace back about four or five generations' worth of confirmed soulmates before the records got foggy and spotty. It was the family's greatest blessing; one that he and Dean had received and accepted wholeheartedly, but it wasn't all that it was cut out to be.

"Waiting hurt," Sam confessed, voice low as he put on his clothes with the methodical experience of a lifetime of Midwest winters. "It's nothing but roses when you're a kid and soulmates are still this fantastical idea like knights and bards, but the older you get, the more the knowledge becomes a burden. Knowing your soulmate is out there but being at the whims of the universe regarding the timing of the fateful meeting is almost cruel."

Gabe looped his arms around his waist, and Sam tucked his chin over the crown of Gabe's head in a manner so familiar that the embrace could've been any one of the thousands they'd had just like this if it weren't for this particular night and conversation.

"You're so patient," Gabe murmured. "The most patient person I know."

"It's a useful trait to have," Sam concurred. "Good in the courtroom, for sure."

Gabe's laugh was soft to keep from waking others, but it broke the serious moment effectively. Their relationship was built on the cornerstone of humor, most of it sharp and sarcastic enough that others not familiar with them scratched their heads and wondered if they ever took each other seriously.

But beneath the banter, they took each other very seriously. One simply didn't find their soulmate and treat them anything but; not when a soulmate was such a precious gift to have in a world that didn't guarantee a partner for everyone.

They made their way downstairs surreptitiously, voices hushed as Sam directed them past the creaky steps. Mary wasn't downstairs, which meant she'd gone back to bed after imparting her ten minutes of wisdom upon Gabe. The Christmas tree was still up and on, white lights twinkling softly and lighting the living room just enough for them to pick out the last items they needed to put on. Hats, gloves, scarves; but their boots were delayed by a halting hand on Gabe's part.

"Let's bring some cocoa out," he whispered, gold eyes reflecting the sparkling lights as he pinned an expectant look on Sam.

_As if I could ever resist that look,_ Sam thought, not even a bit mad as he replied with a kiss.

Cocoa was easy to make and pour into a thermos as long as they exaggerated their motions to keep quiet. Gabe did his best to stifle his laughter when Sam made a big show of silently dropping things into the sink, nearly blowing their cover when he tripped over his feet and crashed into Sam.

"Are you trying to wake the whole house?" Sam hissed as Gabe laughed into his chest.

"No, _but_ … look what I found to spice up the cocoa," he whispered, looking up with a shit-eating grin as he pulled out a bottle of whiskey from behind his back that he must've filched when they passed the liquor cabinet.

"You're insane," Sam said seriously, thinking of John's reaction to the fact that his precious liquor cabinet had been defiled. Such a thing hadn't occurred since the Graduation Incident when Dean had stolen a bottle to celebrate scraping through high school with friends. "I love you for it. Quick, pour some in before the eyes in the back of my dad's head wake him up."

"More like the bald spot, but on it, Mr. Winchester."

They poured the whiskey in like conspiring high schoolers; enough that they would probably get dizzy on the swing. Gabe snuck the bottle back in as Sam screwed the top on the thermos and gave it an experimental shake as they made their way to the front door, stuffing their feet in boots and grabbing throw blankets for extra layers.

" _Christ_ , it's cold," Gabe said, grinning as his breath hung in the frigid, still air.

"Already backing out?" Sam asked, brushing the ice off the swing with a sweep of his forearm and laying down a blanket. The storm had blown in some snow that clung to the corners and edges of the porch, but for the most part, the roof had done its job.

"Hell no," Gabe proclaimed, sitting down and drawing a blanket tight around his shoulders like a cape.

"Figures," Sam sighed as he sat down. Gabe's competitive streak was still running strong despite the fact that it was a few degrees below the freezing point.

They curled in on each other, quickly cracking open the thermos and trading sips of fire-laced cocoa. Sam threw his arm across the back, and Gabe laid his head on his shoulder, tucking his legs up beneath the spare blanket they had tossed over their laps as Sam kicked off and threw them in motion.

The chains creaked and crackled with ice, but the loyal swing held beneath their weight. In front of them, the street stretched on, made white and smooth by the snowfall. Beyond the streetlights, Sam could just make out the wide expanses of land that would sway with wheat in the months to come.

But right now, it was all fresh and unmarred snow; the unbroken, crisp silence of a winter night. Sam's memories of the porch swing were dominated by summer days and sailing on imaginary seas beyond the fields but sitting on it during the winter provided its own unique view and experience.

"I can see why you liked to sit here as a kid."

"It's a good view," Sam said, enjoying the tickle of Gabe's hair against his cheek and the scrape of stubble against skin as he moved his head.

"Not just that. It's also…peaceful. But in a weird way," he said, pulling a face as the words he wanted to use eluded him.

Sam, for all his careful usage of words (law degrees really changed people's brains) and wide vocabulary, knew that sometimes, there weren't words for some things. There wasn't any way Sam could encapsulate the nostalgia and timelessness of the porch swing, and all the love and uncertainty and childlike wonder it had borne him through as he grew.

"Did I ever tell you what my first memory is?" he asked, despite knowing he hadn't.

Gabe shook his head, and Sam hummed before kicking off again from the porch, lurching them into a faster swing that would carry them through the memory.

"I know logically it's not possible that this is the whole memory since I think I was around 2, but I like to think even my brain filling in gaps with imagination is about as close to real as it was," Sam started, sipping some cocoa and looking out at the frozen sea ahead of him. In another life, he might've been a sailor if he hadn't wanted to help people so much.

"It's summer. I can't see the fields at first, but my mother's hair is the same color as the wheat. Her eyes are the sky, and I'm resting in the crook of her elbow, just waking from a sleep I was lulled into by the swing. She props me up, and it's then that I get my first view of the street."

Sam's brow puckered just a bit as he cast his mind back through time, trying to capture the hazy, elusive grasps of summer while surrounded by frigid winter.

"I think it's real because I remember Dean being on the swing; big green eyes and a freckly face. He's smiling at me, and his hair's like wheat too. Except it's cut in that awful bowl cut you saw in the pictures."

Gabe snickered, and the wispy recollections faded away as he suddenly screwed the top of the thermos shut and slid down to lay his head in Sam's lap. His legs went over the armrest, boots scraping off snow and ice along the way.

"That's a lovely memory," he said, opening amber eyes that were luminous in the snow-glow of the night. "My first proper one is of my brothers."

"I'm not surprised by that," Sam said, tugging off Gabe's slipping beanie to run his hand through his hair.

Gabe harrumphed before continuing, eyes sliding shut as he frowned in concentration.

"I don't know what season it is. Maybe spring or summer since the rain was warm. I remember being so excited about seeing it from the window and being unafraid of the thunder and lightning."

"Sounds like you."

"I'm taking that as a compliment," he said, cracking one eye open to glare at him with mock reproach before going back to his retelling.

"Michael didn't want to go out at first because Mom was asleep, and we weren't supposed to go out without her. But she slept a lot in those days, and Lucifer was already a little hellion. _He_ wanted to go out in the rain, and he talked Mike around. Mike got me into my coat and made sure Luci did because the dumbass wanted to run out with no coat, but Luci was the one that got my boots on."

Gabe huffed out a laugh before opening his eyes and reaching for Sam's hand. Sam let him take it, confused when he pulled the glove off only to understand when his palm was turned to expose the scar.

It had become something of a fixation for Gabe. Even after he'd explained the backstory behind it, Sam didn't understand why Gabe was so intrigued by the scar and why he loved to kiss it or touch it until Gabe let him in on the big secret. It'd been a long day, but a fun night; the sweat barely cool on their skin from a round in the sheets and their chests were still heaving.

_You care about people a lot, and this is proof of how selfless and brave you are._

Having multiple people, not to mention his mother, essentially telling him the same thing about the scar made Sam look at it differently. Before, he never gave it much thought beyond the small talk it could spark, but now there was something special about it that made Sam wonder if he really was as brave and selfless as they thought he was. Patience was one thing, but the other qualities were harder for him to grasp possessing in any sort of notable quantity.

"I wore yellow," Gabe said, tracing his gloved fingers lightly over the scar, the thermal fabric dulling the tender caress. "Yellow boots, yellow coat. Michael wore red, and Lucifer wore blue. Primary colors for the kids."

"How old were you?"

"No more than four. It was right before she died," Gabe said, a faint trace of sadness in his eyes as his fingers traced the edge of his scar.

Sam said nothing, letting him go at his own pace. Gabe didn't remember his mother well, and to this day never spoke of her much. None of the Milton brothers did.

"I remember the rain being warm the most, and how _happy_ we were pretending we were the kings of the world. Our first rebellious, forbidden act conducted as brothers," Gabe finished, tugging Sam's glove back on and sitting up.

"Perfect trademark for you Miltons," Sam said, to which Gabe grinned and sat up, all melancholy gone.

"I want more cocoa," he demanded, squirming around until he was tucked into Sam's side once again.

"Is it hitting you?" Sam asked, genuinely curious. Out of the two of them, he held his liquor better, and while Gabe was no slouch, the harder stuff tended to hit him faster.

"A little bit," he confessed, gracing him with another grin that morphed into a kiss that warmed Sam right down to his toes when he leaned over to hand him the thermos and just kept leaning in.

It wasn't so cold, even out here in the dead of night, when he kissed Gabe like this.

The porch light turned on with a buzz, breaking them apart in a second as the door creaked open.

"What in God's name are you two doing?" Cas asked, sticking his face out just a bit and squinting at them with a sleepy face. The bruise and cut he'd gotten from the beer cap on his forehead had healed up enough that he didn't need a bandage anymore, but in the yellow glow of the porch light, it looked almost fresh.

"Um, making out?" Gabe answered with an innocent expression, to which Cas tilted what they could see of his head so far to the side that Sam had to tamp down a laugh at his expression.

"You two are…unbelievable. Batshit insane. It's _three_ in the morning."

"So why are _you_ up?" Gabe retorted.

Cas's scowl was so fearsome that Sam momentarily felt true worry for Gabe, but then it faded to something akin to embarrassment as he scratched his stubble.

"I wanted to get the luggage in the Impala, so Dean didn't have to do it," he mumbled, gaze cast downward. "And…I also wanted to sneak one of Lucifer's CDs into the radio as a prank."

Sam had to hush Gabe's laughter so he didn't wake anyone _else_ up, but inside he was just as pleased about Cas' dual act of kindness and merciless prank. Dean had slowly gotten over most of the jealousy (there wasn't much sense to be when you were _soulmates_ ), but he still hated whenever Cas played one of Lucifer's old albums in the car. Cas probably wanted revenge for the beer cap incident, and Sam didn't blame him.

"We'll help you with that since we're already dressed," Sam said, eager to get in on the prank.

"Good, because it's colder than a meat locker out here," Cas said with a shudder, tossing him the keys.

The snow crunched beneath their feet as he and Gabe worked, getting the job done quickly and quietly (well, quietly from _him_ ; Gabe couldn't stop giggling at the ingenuity on Cas' part). It felt _right_ to be the first ones to disrupt the snow hand in hand, with nothing but the porch light breaking the scene.

"Mission accomplished," Gabe whispered as they stood on the porch and stamped the snow off their feet as quietly as possible. Cas had snaked out an arm at some point and taken the blankets they'd left on the swing, leaving it bare. The only sign they'd sat on it was the lack of ice that coated it.

"You must be very proud of yourself," Sam said, smiling at his boyfriend's clear joy. He always talked about how he would corrupt Cas eventually into doing more than frowning and huffing at the shenanigans the rest of them got into.

"It's always a good day when someone joins the dark side," Gabe remarked, pitching his voice to sound high and mighty.

"Mhmm," Sam hummed doubtfully, "Let's get inside before we turn into popsicles."

They hadn't been outside for _that_ long but acclimating to the warmth inside was still a tingly, sore process. Cas remained in the kitchen with the rest of the whiskey-laced cocoa to finish it off ("Drinking his guilt away," Gabe commented) while they scampered upstairs, sliding into the sheets with the satisfaction of a late-night experience stolen successfully without (too much) interruption.

Gabe fell asleep quickly, but Sam took longer, content to simply lie in bed and watch the room lighten ever so slightly with the oncoming dawn. Later, breakfast would be a hectic rush as everyone scrambled to get the last of the road preparations underway, and then lunch would pass more sedately when everyone wanted to linger. It would only be early afternoon when they finally left, the roads salted and cleared for the way back west in a road trip that would take result in a New Year's spent on the road. Back home were crazy Milton brothers and Brimstone, course work, and an apartment that Sam was 90% _still_ had a load of their clothes in the dryer.

The near future was mundane but bright. Sam wasn't sure of the stretches beyond it; if he would gain another scar from being brave or be as successful as he wanted to be, but he _did_ have one constant in his life now. Gabe would kiss any new scars he attained and be proud of him no matter what path he chose to take in life, just as Sam had been immensely proud of him.

Sam fell asleep just as the light began to edge into something brighter than dim, his scarred hand clasped by Gabe's and tugged close to his chest.

Winchesters always found their soulmates, and Sam had found his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My summer course sucks which is why this is only going up now, but here is the conclusion! A Christmas written in July and enough fluff to give someone a toothache, but that's exactly what I needed to write to get myself through lockdown. Now that this is done, I'll be focusing back on Reactivity and the one-shots I'm hoping (really hoping) to get up in the coming months. Thank you for reading!


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